Ripples in the Water
by ProbablyNotGoingToUpdate
Summary: Memories are tenuous, intangible, and forgettable. So what was this haunting moment that seemed to stalk him? How much could the memory of one day scar a young half-Saiyan? How far would Gohan go to escape the painful horror of his past? **Old Story**
1. Chapter One: Of Hatred and Love

Alright. Here is the first chapter of my first story ever! Keep that in mind, and that I am new at this, but any critism is welcome! I have only a few things to tell you- first of all, I have finished writing this story. You heard me right- approximately 55 000 words in twenty-five lovely chapters. Why then, do I not post it all at once? I want to do what everyone else can- improve. So, I am posting a new chapter every two weeks OR whenever I recieve three _good _reviews. I mean the type that actually helps me. I don't care how long they are- although long ones are appretiated- they only need to have some sort of opinion in it. Tell me what you like. Tell me what you don't like. What/who do you want to see more of? Even just tell me a grammar or spelling mistake I had. It only needs to be beneficial in some way. This makes it so that the following chapters can be even better than the previous, and the new stories I am writing will be all the more better.

That said, I will honestly tell you that this story is a little slow at the beginning, but trust me, it gets waaaaaaaaay better as we get into the later chapters. If you would like, I can tell you which chapters are my favourites at the beginning of each. Or not. Just leave a review and tell me there.

Finally, I have to say that I am CANADIAN, and spell as such. I will be using things such as "Colour" instead of "Color" and "Valour" instead of "Valor". So if you think I have spelt something wrong, this might be why.

Legend of Fonts:

Narration/Story/Normal

"Direct Speech"

_Thought _(This only applies with certain passages, but they will obviously be thought because they are written in the first person)

_Memory_ (This will be obvious from thought, because it will still be written in the third person)

_~ Dreaming ~ _(This will come into play later)

Um... I think that is all. I will add more if I find any I missed.

Okay! Without further ado, I give you Chapter One!

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_Day 334._

That was one of the only things that differentiated one day to the next- that despicable number attatched to it, continuing in its perpetual, merciless increase with every day. The days held titles no longer: they were just days. There were two parts of every ceaseless twenty-four hour cycle: day and night, but even those had little difference. It was just time counting on previously from that horrible, unforgettable moment, the moment that just kept replaying in his head over and over again.

_"Good-bye, my son."_

_He... he had to say it, didn't he?_

_"Good-bye, my son."_

_He couldn't have just let it happen, could he?_

_"Good-bye, my son."_

_...of course not._

_"Good-bye, my son."_

_He... he was above that._

_"Good-bye, my son."_

_But... why did it have to be him?!_

_"Good-bye, my son."_

_Why... why couldn't it have been..._

_"Good-bye, my son."_

_Why did you have to die?!_

No matter what he did or said, nothing could make him understand it. He remebered the first day- or at least, partially remebered it. Through a blur of bloody eyes, dizziness of concusioned head, and fuzziness of the pain of immesurable broken bones, he rembered that awful feeling. It had happened previously, and that provided him with some experience of how it was going to feel. Yet the previous time, there was still a glimmer of hope that his father was alive: a single, unprotected flame of optimism that he had kept alight, bright and never wavering. He by no means once truly believed that he would never see his father again and maybe, more than anything, that belief is what allowed him to continue on every day.

Except now, that light was non-existent. His father was dead, and no force on earth was able to change the fact that he had a single, vacant hole in his life where a father would always be absent. He was far from alone, but he always had a gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing that he was alone if he was going to go out and train or any other activity. Because of that single reason, he never did go out and train any more.

It was eleven months exactly. Or 334 days. Or 47 weeks and 5 days. Or 8016 hours. Or 480 960 minutes. Or 28 857 600 seconds. 28 857 601... 28 857 602... 28 857 603..._ when would the torture end?_ Gohan felt he was ready to see the site where it all transpired.

His mother protested, believing that the only thing he needed to do was study. However, when she saw the solemn, cold and determined look in his eye, she understood that stopping him would be a severe mistake.

_Besides,_ she reasoned, _Gohan has been inside the house for way too long- he could use the fresh air. He rarely ever comes out of his room nowadays- I guess he's really taken to his studies._ She gave her approval to let him go.

Without even thinking, Gohan decided to take his seldom-used bicycle. He was surprised by this action, but it was more of an instinct, and he found that usually his instincts were to be trusted.

As he rode along the wooded path, the hours ticked slowly by, with little to no meaning to him. He was going a fair pace, not sprinting but far from slow, and when he passed by a bush or tree, the air rushed past them and threatened to tear their branches off with a single pass. The wind was refreshingly cool in his hair, which was slightly longer than his father's style of hair cut, for his mother was continuously arguing to let it grow out, and she had become enraged after the several times that Gohan would appear with it cut short again. She said that she wanted to cut his hair herself, or else let it grow long again. The demi-Saiyan had disobeyed this wish four times already, and the last encounter with his mother on the subject made him wonder whether doing that again would be wise. She could become interfering and meddlesome, and Gohan did not want that.

As he continued on, he attempted to recollect the rest of the events of that day, besides that moment, but his mind hesitated, and strangely found it extremely difficult to do. It wasn't that he had poor memory- more like his subconsciousness was finally taking initiative, and trying to steal that moment away from him and prevent him from causing further harm to his mental self.

Suddenly, his eyes darted up as he saw a poorly trimmed shrub approaching him. He had plenty of time to swerve and dodge it, but there was something internal that stalled him. He merely didn't care as a branch came and sliced past his face, no doubt drawing blood. His pace slackened, and he came to a halt as he regained his composure. He felt his forehead to find that the wound he received previously had re-opened, and a stream of blood was oozing out from it. He wondered if it would scar, as it hadn't fully healed from Dende's treatment, or in the eleven-month time it had to do so. He quickly wiped the blood from his hand onto his shirt, and looked around at the area he was now currently occupying.

Gohan recognised the area almost immediately, but from what he didn't understand. He was drawing near the location he was aiming for, but everywhere around him there were stalks of wheat almost twice as tall as he was. At first he was puzzled at why someone would be farming here, but then realised that before that fateful day, the entire area must have been a rural community. He pressed on, focused and wondering if there would even be anything left to see. Again, that instinct of his told him to get there, and soon.

The road he was traveling on suddenly turned from deer-path to newly paved, and he saw numerous vehicles flying past him. He knew it wouldn't be normal for someone to be biking on such a busy street, and decided that a more scenic route would be better suited. Luckily, the nearby wheat had a path traveling down it, and he granted that meant that it must lead somewhere. Gohan twirled his bike around and continued down the path, glad to be heading away from the noise.

Surprisingly, the path seemed to be leading exactly to where his unusually limited memory recalled the spot to be located. The grain was turning slightly, so he could not see what lay ahead, but his sensitive ears could hear something before he arrived, and it almost caused him to fall over backwards.

"HAR HA HAR HA HAR HAA HAR!"

_That laughter…_

He recalled suddenly, one of the events of that prophetic day. The one person who had no connection with Gohan on that day, Hercule Satan, claimed possession of that boisterous laugh. Gohan threw down his bicycle, with no regard to where or how it landed, and jogged forward to the end of the pathway. There was a sudden inclination, and Gohan heard people talking, and decided to manoeuvre onto his stomach so not to expose himself.

He inched his way forward and saw ahead, in a clearing, Hercule wearing his trademarked cape and sparring outfit. He was standing in front of what appeared to be a large tarp, covering something that would, no doubt, be revealed later. Poised with his hands in two fists on his hips, he was laughing at something a nearby news reporter had said. Gohan was listening intently, as he heard the world-champion begin to talk to all of the news reporters and spectators.

"Now, are we about ready to begin? I don't want to keep my adoring fans waiting… har ha har haa!" He shouted to everyone. The cameramen pointed the video-recorders to their respective news reporters as they all gave the introduction to an unquestionably live broadcast. Gohan focused all of his attention on what important event was taking place here- _of all places!_

"Now, we take you live to your reigning world martial-arts champion, Mr. Satan!" One reporter announced loudly as all of the cameramen pointed towards the so-called champion. He was obviously enjoying his time on air.

"As all of you already know," he started, "I am Hercule Satan. Many months ago, on this spot, a terrible monster known as Cell held a deadly tournament to decide the fate of the planet…"

Gohan couldn't believe his ears. He watched, entranced not by the man but by what could possibly be standing upright behind him. His hearted raced as his mind held itself to one conclusion; they were going to honour his father.

"…but I stood firm, waiting for my turn…" Mr. Satan continued.

Gohan did not pay attention to what the man was saying anymore; he was too busy thinking of what the statue would look like. He thought it might be his father in his fighting stance, or perhaps his father standing up tall with his eyes closed, scratching the back of his head as his father- and himself, in fact- was notorious for doing.

"…threw him back like he was warm butter!" Mr. Satan described, much to the amusement of the reporters who couldn't help but snicker every time he used a phrase incorrectly.

Gohan suddenly thought that they might have his father with his serious face in the statue- the solemn face he wore when someone was threatening the people he cared for, such as Cell did. That face sent chills down Gohan's spine. Gohan suddenly realised why his father had that face. When he first stood up against Cell, he couldn't find it in his composure to smile at the beast. Cell, however, took everything lightly, laughing at the pain of other people. Gohan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the memory came back to him.

_Gohan watched in horror as his friends were being brutally tortured to the cheek of death, all because he was not strong enough to fight Cell. He could do nothing but feel himself slowly lose his sanity._

_"Playtime's over, children. You can kill them now."_

Gohan now felt the anger coursing through his veins just at the thought of that moment. He clenched his fists as he attempted to regain his slipping control of his feelings and consciousness. He directed his attention back to the clearing as he watched the champion ready himself to remove the tarp.

"And now…

"I present to you…

"The HERCULE MEMORIAL!" Mr. Satan shouted, and many reporters chortled as the tarp fell to the ground. Gohan started to stand, shocked at what he saw.

Standing nearly eighty feet tall was a large likeness of Mr. Satan. At the base of the statue's feet was a large stone block with names of people engraved into it. Sergeants, Lieutenants, and many other military people, as well as the names of innocent citizens were all listed below the phrase "ALL THOSE WHO WERE LOST IN THE TRAGEDY. MAY THEY REST IN PEACE."

Gohan's eyes darted across the stone tablet. He even hovered in the air slightly to get a better view of the other three sides. He blinked at what he found, or rather, lacked to find.

They didn't mention his father.

_Not only is the statue not a memorial to Father, the man who, without a doubt, was the saviour of earth not only in this instance, but in numerous others, but they also do not even mention him among one of the fallen. They are going to give all the credit to this person that I have never even heard of until recently. They are all too happy to give awards, money, and undoubtedly other riches to this man who did **nothing**, absolutely nothing. This man is going to have a gigantic statue to represent him for thousands of years for something he never even did. Meanwhile, Father's name will fall into obscurity, forgotten for all of the deeds he did, many of which saved the planet's existence. The entire credit would go to this man, who would only be too happy to accept all of the rewards, without ever doing any work. Father had trained for so long, suffered so much, and eventually even given his life for this man to take all of the credit. _

Completely unaware that he was already in his Super Saiyan form, Gohan stood with his head bowed. He clenched his fists even tighter, and as a result his fingernails punctured his skin and blood began to seep down his hand. Tears began to stream from his eyes, and the inevitable happened.

He snapped.

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...hmm? So, are you intrigued? I hope you decide to stick with me through this story.

If you were confused by the first little part of the chapter, it was Gohan's thoughts with his memory of that awful moment. Anytime you see an italic passage in the story with no introduction, it is highly likely it is Gohan's thoughts. Also, sometimes I will have a random bit of italic at the end of a sentence. This is ninety-nine percent of the time Gohan's opinion of whatever that passage said. Here's the examples from this passage, I also bolded the italic:

"Gohan focused all of his attention on what important event was taking place here- _**of all places!**"_

_"_Or 8016 hours. Or 480 960 minutes. Or 28 857 600 seconds. 28 857 601... 28 857 602... 28 857 603... _**when would the torture end?**"_

This is what I think Gohan would think about the subject. The only reason that I do this is because I want the narration/storytelling/whatever it is called to remain partially neutral on the story, because I have a habit of showing my opinion in my writing. It is almost certain that I will do so in this story at some point, but I want to try and avoid that as much as possible.

Anyways, that's enough from me. Read, Review if you would like, but most importantly, Enjoy!

See you in two weeks (or less).


	2. Chapter Two: Of Power and Pain

Alright, I'll be quick with my notes this time.

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my story. Every comment is appreciated, so keep them coming.  
A question asked by Dr. Trunks Briefs was whether or not Goten would be in this story. I would answer the question directly, but that would spoil later chapters. You will just have to read and see...

I present to you... Chapter Two.

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Whether it was from the fact that these people not given any respect to his father, the chilling memories he had of Cell, the traumatic events of that day finally catching up with him, or a combination of the three, the outcome was the same. Gohan's head jolted upwards, and in a single, immense wave, all of the passion he was valiantly trying to keep inside of him exploded out, uprooting all of the wheat stalks in a ten-foot radius. His yell resonated from mountains hundreds of miles away, and visible blue sparks began to cascade around his body. All of his hair stood upright, apart from a single piece of hair that draped in front of his eyes. The ceremony occurring only a few meters away came to an abrupt halt. All eyes were on the single, glowing entity that hovered a few inches off the ground in the centre of a large crater.

His teal eyes shone fiercely with the same emotionless, stoic stare he remembered his father having only shortly before. His eyes narrowed on the figure of the single person who cowered in fear at the sight of the golden-haired youth: Hercule Satan, who was also currently occupying the space behind the larger figure of himself. Gohan, with what little sane consciousness he had, attempted to calm his angered self. Another shockwave erupted from his body, this time getting the distance to knock the spectators clean off of their feet. His willpower over himself was almost completely gone, and with one final, deafening and thunderous shout, he felt his last self-restraint fail.

He lowered himself to the ground, and slowly walked forward, past all of the now unconscious bodies surrounding him. His eyes were fixed ahead, glaring indifferently.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a smudge of yellow hurtling towards him, and instinctively, he flung it back at whoever sent it. He saw a small, green figure in the sky, and the blast made a direct hit on it. The figure stumbled in the air, attempting to regain its composure. Gohan paid little more attention to it, and drew his focus to the massive statue ahead of him. He looked up, and for a moment, he simply gazed at it. Then, suddenly, he drew his hands to one side, and and began to charge his energy.

_Ka…_

_Me…_

_Ha…_

_Me…_

_HA! _

An immense blue wave leapt from his hands and charged forwards, leaving everything around it like it had looked a few months before; destroyed and barren. While not a powerful as the blast used to annihilate Cell, the passion behind it made it far from weak. In an instant, the statue was completely obliterated, and no sign of it was left, with even the debris from the statue being wiped out in the flash. A little of his uncontrolled energy was released, and some of his rational sense returned.

Again, the smudge of yellow came towards him, and this time he dodged it, allowing it to hit and create a crater in the ground. His head swung around, and he saw the green figure again, this time carrying the panicking world-champion. Something deep inside of him recognised the figure, but his fiercely commanding irrational side wanted to avoid it, so he drew his attention to the area behind where the statue once stood.

It was what appeared to be a cemetery, similar to one for war victims, where the bodies were not found and if they were, they were too maimed to tell who was who. He walked forward, out of curiosity, and saw that this was most likely the memorial before the inaptly named "Hercule Memorial". He saw the rugged wooden posts, scribbled names, and unsymmetrical rows and instantly knew that this was a poorly funded operation. It probably wasn't even official, but made by concerned people who saw the horrid event. There were several wooden posts for unnamed grave markers, and a few misshapen rocks for gravestones of the few known people. Gohan looked around the pitiable cenotaph, and again failed to find his father's name. Just the single revelation allowed the small amount of his sensible self he had to slip away again.

Piccolo looked down at Hercule, who was rambling to himself.

"Oh please, oh _please_ let him not kill me… I'm too important to die!"

Piccolo knocked him unconscious, and allowed him to fall safely to the ground, the champion's cape acting like a parachute. He then turned and saw Gohan, his pupil and life-long friend, staring intently at the ground. Piccolo felt the tremors of energy radiating from Gohan hit him like a brick wall. He saw that, while what was happening was destructive, the young Saiyan was trying to stop it, as the energy came out in short instalments, one a short while after the other, and not in a full-blown wave. Most likely, this was caused by the resolve the Saiyan had to prevent further damage. Piccolo was able to see dismally that the attempt was starting to fall apart.

Piccolo pondered for a moment on how to stop the madness. He was not completely certain of what was happening. _The Saiyans are a peculiar bunch and obviously not to be misjudged. _He eventually thought of a plan, though, and quickly implemented it.

He swooped down, and managed to not be knocked over by the waves of energy. Gohan looked up, and gave Piccolo a look that said "Go away; don't bother me". Piccolo returned this glare with the first idea that popped into his head; a blow to the face. His fist made contact, and Piccolo could tell that it had some effect since the glare turned from semi-polite to a death threat. He took this as a sign that this was working, and continued to throw punches at the young Saiyan.

The effect from Gohan's point of view, however, was very different. His mind was overflowing now that his emotion was out of control: sorrow, hatred, grief, jealousy, despair, envy, distrust, remorse, regret, shame, misery, desire, anguish … all enveloping and completely controlling his thoughts. As he looked upward, the sight of his former master brought back nostalgic memories, and the sadness that came with them. Then, when he struck him, another emotion prevailed: anger. The blows kept coming, which caused much distress as his raging mind was filled with the urge to fight back, when he knew that he had to calm himself down. His self-restraints failed yet again, and he blocked the next kick and returned with one of his own. A final, unmistakeable passion arose from deep inside of him, originating from his most primitive instincts: exhilaration. He was comforted in how good it felt as he continued to attack the unprepared Piccolo. His emotions were all flowing freely now, as every punch was fuelled by rage, every kick by anguish, and he never stopped- he couldn't. It all felt too good. He was not holding back either, and that made it impossible for Piccolo to block- let alone dodge- his rapid, random, and powerful attacks. Gohan's heart was racing at the excitement that the fighting brought all Saiyans, and his normally pacifist nature was replaced with a ruthless, unforgiving one.

His uncontrolled bout was successfully calming him down, because suddenly, something conscious inside of him lurched as he heard his former superior yell in pain again. He paused, and looked at the bloody form of Piccolo. He was speechless, as he suddenly and atrociously became aware of the fact that he had done this all to him.

His heart skipped a beat, and he staggered slightly with the regret and penitence he felt, as his emotional self was still rampant and uncontrolled. However, he quickly regained some of his control, and his sensible self took charge. He scooped up Piccolo, and immediately blasted away, heading for Kami's Lookout.

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Okay, this chapter was a quickly, so expect the next update really soon. Sorry if this chapter was horrendous. I'm a little embarrassed about how it unfolds. But anyway, tell me how it is! I hope to see you here next update.

Until next time, Warriors!!


	3. Chapter Three: Of Curses and Cures

Alright... Chapter three.

This is another quick chapter, and another one that I feel a little uncertain about. But, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!

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When Gohan arrived, he immediately shouted at Dende, not wanting to delay Piccolo's help any further.

"Dende! Quickly, heal Piccolo!"

"Gohan?! Wh-what are you doing?! What's happened?! Why's Piccolo hurt?!" The little Namekian was suddenly shaken by a tremor that shook the entire lookout, "St-stop, Gohan! You'll d-destroy the tower!" He screeched over the energy erupting from the young Saiyan.

"No time!" He answered, his mind racing at the questions and not wanting to explain.

Dende nodded- perhaps not in agreement but simply from the enormous energy being radiated- and struggled over to where Piccolo was. He kneeled, and raised his hands over the injured warrior. A soft glow emanated from his small, green hands and flowed all around Piccolo's body. After a few anxious moments, Piccolo blinked his eyes, stood and rolled his tense shoulders back and forth.

"Hah… maybe not one of my most ingenious plans, but it seemed to calm you down to some degree," He muttered, before looking into the passionate teal eyes gazing back at him. It then became obvious to him that Gohan was still failing to suppress his energy. It was not the uncontrolled, violent form but nevertheless, Gohan was still in the perfected ascended Super Saiyan, or Super Saiyan 2, form. It was also apparent that this senseless exertion of energy and his attempt at stopping it was laborious and–undoubtedly- harming him.

"P-Piccolo?" Was all Gohan could manage to say, and it was evident to all those present that it took much control to say it calmly. Piccolo took it upon himself to ask the young Saiyan the obvious question.

"Why haven't you concealed your energy, Gohan?"

He paused, and for a moment all that could be heard was the flapping of Piccolo's torn cape to the energy radiating from Gohan.

"Piccolo… I can't," he stated through clenched teeth. The way he said it did not imply that he was unable to, but more the he refused to. Piccolo heard this, but ignored the intonation.

"What?! You did befor-" Piccolo began, before realising that the statement wasn't true. There were two previous times when he returned from this form, but it was possible that neither times were willingly. The first time, Gohan was most likely shocked out of the form by the devastating realisation that his father was dead. The second time, Gohan was completely exhausted from his duel with Cell, and probably didn't have much choice in the matter.

Gohan was struggling yet again to keep his sanity. He was determined to remain- to some extent- calm and it took nearly all of his attention to do so. What he wondered-with the little of his conscious he had left for him to wonder with- was how infuriated he was when he fought Cell if this is how much effort it took to remain composed. He couldn't even begin to fathom how he was supposed to hide this energy if he found it so hard to simply _control_ it.

Dende had scurried away, to the side of Mr. Popo, and sighed heavily. The energy was still emitting from the young Saiyan, and he was forced to cling to the support of his staff to remain upright. Mr. Popo was having difficulties as well, and they both decided that it would be best to retreat to sanctuary.

"Piccolo, if you can help me, do it," Gohan enunciated, with clarity and a defiant, disrespectful edge on his voice. Piccolo disregarded the impudence, nodded, and decided that if Gohan was unconscious, that he would power down and they could solve the control problem when he was composed. He told Gohan to turn around, which he obediently did, and brought a single karate-chop style blow to his neck. Gohan's bowed head did not flinch, but it did snap up to show that all this managed to do was irritate the already enraged Saiyan.

Piccolo stumbled back, shocked at the resilience Gohan showed without even trying. His direct methods were clearly not going to work on him. A passive approach was going to have to be taken. With the previous accounts taken into consideration, doing that meant that Gohan was going to have to be either mentally shocked or physically exhausted into submission.

Gohan couldn't keep himself calm anymore, and knew he needed to leave. He shot a glance at Piccolo that clearly stated that he did not want to be followed, and he departed from the lookout in a blinding flash. He did not know where he was headed, and honestly, he didn't care. He needed to go somewhere where he could figure this out on his own. He was not very far when he realised that Piccolo had ignored his look and followed him. His patience was running thin and- yet again- the little control he had on himself disappeared. He stopped in his tracks, turned around, and proceeded to declare his frustration surprisingly stoically, but again with the insolent edge in his tone.

"…it's obvious, Piccolo, that you aren't able to help me. Accept the fact. I have complete control of everything, and I don't need your help. Just go away," he stated, looking down at first but now looking directly into Piccolo's eyes.

Piccolo was left speechless. He could not believe that Gohan had just said that to him. After years of only being called "Mr. Piccolo" or something similar, he didn't believe that Gohan had an impolite molecule in his body. Now though, that speculation was obviously untrue. Piccolo was about to say something but possibly for the first time ever, Gohan interrupted him.

"-you know what? Forget it. You can do whatever you want, just don't follow me. I need some time alone, and perhaps that's what you need as well. Farewell,"

And with that, he left.

Piccolo wanted to follow him, for everything he knew told him that Gohan was far from in control of his power, and that he would need help. However, he knew that simply following and pestering wasn't going to help.

For a few minutes, Piccolo didn't move from his spot high in the air. He floated cross-legged, and with his eyes closed in concentration. He sensed the young Saiyan's unique and familiar energy- _still not hidden_- and followed his every movement. The energy wandered aimlessly around, heading nowhere in particular, and every so often it would stop for a brief moment, and then return to its drifting. Piccolo wondered if Gohan was deciding where to go next, or perhaps he was thinking someone was following him. Then, all of a sudden, another energy signal was heading towards the Saiyan- and a strong one at that. For a split second, Piccolo was ready to confront the power and either stop and warn it of the state that Gohan was in, or warn Gohan of its approach. Then, his intellect kicked in, recognised the power, and allowed him to relax. It was just lucky for him that the person heading to the problem was the only person who Piccolo thought had a chance of solving it. Piccolo then suddenly and disappointedly realised that there was about to be a once-in-a lifetime show, and he was going to have to miss it.

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Hmm... now, who could this mysterious person coming towards Gohan be? Any guesses?

Alright, I promise, this is the last quick chapter. It starts to get good after this, so I hope to see you next update. Read, Review if you would like, but most importantly, Enjoy!

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	4. Chapter Four: Of Might and Misery

Alright! _Chapitre quatre!_ And... it's a little short. But you know what's worse than that? I got a grand total of TWO reviews. Un, deux. That's a little disheartening as a writer. So that makes up for the short chapter... sort of...

But congrats to the two people who reviewed and guessed the character correctly! It's Chiaotzu!

...just kidding.

Chapter four, AWAY!

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Gohan paused again. He could still sense Piccolo's energy, right were he last saw him. He also glanced around, and saw that he was far away enough from society to ponder in peace on the obvious problem. However, he didn't even get a chance to begin pondering before he felt an energy signal heading towards him at high speeds. He didn't even attempt to control himself this time; he realised just how futile his attempt was, and accepted the fact. Instead, without even thinking, he confronted the person by traveling towards him at such an incredible pace that he appeared to vanish, then appear right in front of the intruder. His severe gaze did not lighten when he saw who the aggressor was.

"Gohan?!" Vegeta spat with disbelief and a hint of disgust.

Gohan gave no answer, and stared intently out of the top of his eyes at the last surviving pure-blooded Saiyan. Vegeta was presently in a green and white striped polo, and seemed to be not happy about it. However such was to be expected; Gohan himself was wearing his casual clothes, as there was no need for sparring outfits since this was a time of peace.

"Humph," Vegeta grunted, not appearing to be impressed by the display of energy the demi-Saiyan was showing. Inside, however, his blood was boiling at the reminder of how Gohan had surpassed him in power, but it would be worse if anyone- _especially Kakarot_- knew that. He kept his arrogant head held high, and scoffed at the young Saiyan, "Huh, it's just you. For a second, I thought it was someone worth fighting…"

Gohan's stare- if anything- intensified with the comment, and his face gave a look that sarcastically implied "Is that so?" Vegeta knew that something was off with Gohan; even he knew him to be a quiet boy who never did anything brash or used his power unless it was absolutely necessary. Since there was no dangerously evil humongous energy signal about, Vegeta knew that something must be wrong with Gohan. Vegeta did not want to deal with someone else's problems, however. He was getting impatient, and looked like he wanted Gohan to get out of the way; he was the Prince of all Saiyans, after all. Gohan, however, made no implication that he was going to move. He continued his now sideways glare of Vegeta, in a way that inferred that he had business with the arrogant prince.

"What do you want, boy? I don't have time for this. Get out of my way before I make you-" and with that, he lowered his hand to push him away by the shoulder. However, when his hand came down, it was met and blocked by the arm of the young Saiyan. His eyes never wavered in their solemn stare as Vegeta withdrew his hand. He paused for a moment, raised his eyebrow in thought, and then decided that this was a challenge from Gohan, and he was too proud to back down from any challenge- no matter whether the challenge was implied, or even if he thought he could not win. A smirk inched across his face, and, with a quick ascension to a Super Saiyan, he quickly threw a flurry of punches, kicks, and attacks of all sorts at the should-be-unsuspecting Gohan. He, however, dodged them all effortlessly, and so quickly that it appeared like Vegeta was not aiming at him, but the air around him. This did not deter Vegeta: in fact, it spurred him on, for he wanted so badly for one of his blows to make contact.

Gohan ended the skirmish when he blocked a final kick by Vegeta, and for a few agitated moments the two fighters simply stared at one another, waiting for some change in their eyes that would hint their next movement. Vegeta saw once such glint in the intense teal eyes gazing at him, but had little time to react as now he was forced to blindly block and dodge numerous attacks that were heading his way. He eventually saw a pattern, and soon was dodging attacks somewhat smoothly- although he still had to use his quickest reflexes and instincts to remain unscathed. After he became a little too confident, he decided to throw in some attacks of his own. This was a mistake, however, for as he attempted to match Gohan blow for blow, he put himself at a significant disadvantage, and soon he found himself keeling over after he was dealt a powerful punch to the abdomen. Gohan did not attack as his opponent regained his composure- he had enough respect to know that that would be a dishonourable attack- but he was unmoved by the pain that Vegeta was enduring.

A small cough of blood revealed some internal damage from the injury; however, it was a small thing to an accomplished- not to mention unearthly- fighter like Vegeta. He wiped the blood onto his hand- he usually was wearing gloves, but it still did not bother him on his bare hand- and gave a somewhat satisfied sound.

"You can sure pack a punch, boy. I'll give you that," he grunted. It was quite obvious that his bout with the young Saiyan had exhausted him, short though it was. Gohan, on the other hand, looked no more tired than before he fought. He was still in his fighting stance, and looked ready and impatient to go at it again. He did not attack, though, out of respect to the fact that Vegeta was unprepared. He was ready to let Vegeta take the first move.

Vegeta was in quite a situation. It was very clear to him that he was at the disadvantage, but his arrogance refused to let him back down first. He put his arms at his sides, with his hands in two tight fists. There was no question in his mind now: he had to continue to fight.

And so they did. They did not remain stationary this time, but moved quickly about the skies in different directions, only to meet with such a force that they would break the sound barrier in a deafening outburst. There would not have been much to see had there been any witnesses: streaks of yellow darting this way and that, meeting and ricocheting off one another. For a brief moment, two individuals could be seen when they met, locked together in a position where two fists, two feet, two elbows, or two legs met in a clash of attacks. After a millisecond of intense staring, they would bolt away, only to meet again shortly later. This went on for sometime, and it appeared that they were at a stalemate. Vegeta stopped, as did Gohan, and the Prince huffed loudly from exhaustion as he looked at the young Saiyan, not in the least bit fatigued, and smirking back at him. He was simply toying with Vegeta, and seemed to be enjoying doing so. When Vegeta realised this, he nearly exploded with the embarrassment and disgrace that someone was besting him, and that someone was so much younger than himself- not to mention not even pure-blooded!

"Why you-you-," He sputtered, so infuriated that he was at a loss for words, "You little brat! Why- why you're even worse than Kakarot!"

This got Gohan's attention immediately. His sadistically playful smirk quickly disappeared, to be replaced by the emotionless, serious glare he wore earlier.

"Don't talk about my father," he stated, his voice now clearly aggressive.

"I don't have to listen to you-you half-breed!" He shouted.

Out of spite, or perhaps to define his dominance over both himself and the young Saiyan, he decided to defy young Gohan's plea.

"You can't control me, just like your pathetic father! He was nothing more than low-class scum. I am superior to him: an elite! I'm here, and he's where? Dead, that's where! Proof in itself: only a pathetic fool would allow himself to be killed so dishonourably," he sneered, "He was a poor excuse for a Saiyan, and good riddance to him!"

This was without a doubt the most dangerous thing Vegeta had ever said. Even he knew that saying this would do him nothing but harm, but his pride impaired his judgment. He could have been dead by the end of the first sentence- and if he had said something similar to anyone else besides the normally peace-loving Gohan, he probably would have. However, Gohan laboriously and commendably endeavoured to keep his lethal passion at bay, and that spared Vegeta his life. Vegeta, nevertheless, knew far too well how to get under someone's skin, and it was inescapable that Gohan would respond to this cruel mockery of his father.

Before Vegeta could even punctuate his statement with a barbaric laugh as he normally did, he found himself face-planted in the ground hundreds of feet where he was a moment earlier, and being forced further down by and unmistakable energy wave. His eardrums rang with the echo of Gohan's heart-wrenching scream. He managed with every ounce of his strength to turn his body around by the time the scream ended, only to see a tear-streamed face heading towards him, eyes ablaze with passion, and immeasurable sapphire sparks emitting from him. He drew his hand back, clenched into a tight, deadly fist. As it made contact, the Saiyan Prince gasped- he would have yelled, but he had no air left to do so- and trembled in pain. Not only was the punch itself breaking every bone it came in contact with, but the electric shock from the sparks made his heart fibrillate.

Gohan was not conscious of anything except for how the person below him must be made to suffer, and suffer brutally. He knew he was accomplishing this as he felt his fist penetrate through the flesh of Vegeta and into the hard-packed dirt below. Vegeta gagged, coughed up more blood onto his chest, and could do nothing but escape to the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness.

Gohan withdrew his arm from the cavity in Vegeta's chest, and stared down at the Saiyan prince. It registered in his mind that while he managed to avoid killing him instantly by damaging his major organs, Vegeta would undoubtedly die from the blood loss and failure of bodily functions. What did not register, though, was that this was a bad thing. He stared down as the Saiyan Prince slowly and agonizingly inhaled his last few breaths, and Gohan did not motion to do anything but watch. He did not expect anything to happen as he did this- especially what did come to pass.

He saw appear out of nowhere his father's angelic form kneeling beside Vegeta, with his face a portrait for disappointment and disbelief merged as one emotion. Gohan stood still for a moment as he saw this, before fell to his knees out of shock, his reaction time obviously delayed for some reason. He dared not event to blink, but through his failing throat he managed to whisper one word.

"D-daddy?"

His father turned to face him, stood, and slowly walked towards him. He kneeled down to a level in which he was directly in front of Gohan's face, looking into his tear-streamed eyes. Time stood still as father and son were locked in an intimate gaze. He returned his son's simple inquisition with one of his own.

"Why'd you do it, Gohan?" He asked. He did not expect an answer, though, for before any more could be said he softly placed his hands along Gohan's neck and jaw line, wiped a lingering tear from his cheek, smiled, and twisted his neck to one side with a gruesome and audible crack. He allowed his son to fall unconscious in his arms and ponder on the question in solitary.

* * *

Aaaaaaaaand the ball starts rolling. It's just going to get more intense with every chapter, so I recommend you stick around to find out more.

Alright. Now, tell me what you think! Good dialouge? Bad characterization? Not enough action? "OMG! U HERT VEGGIE!?!?" *Ahem* Too clichéd? Tell me what you think in a review.

Until next time, warriors!


	5. Chapter Five: Of Solitude and Sanity

Before we get the next chapter underway, I would like to thank everyone who has been reviewing, and those who are staying with me through the story. I find myself sometimes smiling foolishly with some of the reviews that I read. I will say it once more- ALL reviews are appreciated. Even if you would just like to tell me that you've lost interest in my writing and are moving onwards, I can take that as a sign to strive to improve even further.

I'll be honest again, this chapter is one of the most "out there" in this particular story. If you can go along with this one, I'm fairly confident that the rest will be manageable for you.

I've gone on long enough. Here it is...

Chapter Five

* * *

The next thing that Gohan was aware of was being in an endless abyss of nothingness. It had neither pigment nor shade - somewhat like looking unfocused at the back of your own eyelids- and the only thing that made it real was the fact that Gohan was aware that he was there. "He" was not physically there, however; he knew that his body was somewhere else, and he had nothing to control that would give him movement of any kind. His mental self was painfully clear of its presence in the empty chasm, and he was overwhelmed by the simple recognition of how alone he was. He had no one- not his father, nor his mother, Piccolo, Krillin, or any of his other friends to keep him company. There was no life at all, conscious or not, for there were no animals or plants present as well. Not only that, but there was nothing to look at either, and this was much more disturbing than he ever would have thought of before. No sky, no forests, no lakes, no rivers, no mountains, no plains, no valleys, no villages… no anything! If the lack of something to see was brutal, then the lack of any sensual feeling was pure torture. No sound could be heard, no fragrance could be smelt, no flavour could be tasted or even a touch could be felt. He was only aware of being, nothing else.

He was simply there to wait for possibly eternity for something of any importance to present itself, and his mind reeled at the thought of how he might be stuck here in the vacuity forever. But what else was there to do?

So he waited. He waited for that something to present itself for ages, but there was no sense of time in this place, and for all he was aware of his entire experience could have taken place in one fraction of a second. He waited, and as he did so he was left to do nothing but think. He thought long and hard about what had occurred with himself, Hercule, Piccolo, Vegeta, and his father. There was only a single benefit that this place gave him: its lack of substance allowed his mind to think unimpeded and unhindered. His reflection was one that such a young person- fully human or not- should never have to endure.

_Why __**did**__ I do it? I was a different person… it wasn't me. No- that's no excuse! That was me, but a different part of me. _

_Why is there such a violent part of myself that just wants to cause so much senseless destruction? I am just the same as Cell, or any other thing that causes pain to others._

_Why do I feel instinct in causing others harm? I… I must suppress this instinct. _

_Why shouldn't I be able to? I have been doing so my entire life. Why not now?_

_Maybe… maybe it's just impossible. Maybe I am condemned to try to live my life peacefully, only to have these haphazard bouts whenever my…spontaneous self emerges, hurting all in my path, acting like some diabolical god-like being has control over me. _

_How can I compete with that? Fate must force me to this cruel destiny, and I can either comply, or live my entire life trying to avoid it…_

…_I should just accept the fact that I can do nothing to change my life; it has been given to me, and I must receive it and be happy with what I have been granted. Many people do not even have the happiness in life that I have been graced with! Only the unmerciful, cruel parts of life are apparent to them. They live life, and continue on every day._

_Why can I not do so? I should understand that there are unpleasant times in life, and that they need to be endured. I know that this power offered to me is both a blessing and a curse, depending on its intent and employment._

_But… if I am aware of that, doesn't that tell me something about myself? I know that suffering, pain, and death are all things that should never have to be experienced without cause …_

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

_...is this what makes me different from Cell? I am aware now, that what I have done is unjust, and being aware of that, can I change? If I could only keep these realisations with me while I am in such a violent state… if I did that, I could keep my intentions virtuous._

_Father… I have let you down twice now. I have the resolve now to keep my purpose in life clear. I can accomplish this! I must! I will do it for you! _

With that, he knew that all he had to do to leave this place was to try. He opened his eyes, now aware of them being present, and readied himself for whatever was coming this way. Strangely, he suddenly felt that he was actually able to achieve his goal.

* * *

Gohan awoke to such a bombardment of senses that he couldn't help but inhale sharply at the shock. The wind was rustling the leaves in an overhead tree, and the cool breeze felt so refreshing that he shivered pleasantly, covered in goosebumps. The sound from the wind was soft and peaceful, and carried on it was sweet birdsong and the aroma of what Gohan thought to be freshly baked bread. A suddenly growl from his stomach told just how hungry he was, and he opened his eyes. He was in the middle of an open field, laying on the ground, looking at the underside of a tree. The sight was simple yet breathtakingly beautiful: the sunlight shone through the thin leaves, gaining an emerald hue and lighting up the world in a manner fit for a cathedral. He lay there for a few moments, and simply took in all there was to see. He looked at the sky, and noticed that the hue of blue was dark at its apex, and gradually brightened to an almost white along the horizon. The clouds were full bodied and puffy- the prettiest kind. At present, there was a gigantic cloud that loomed to the left of Gohan, and the sheer size of it combined with the beautiful depth, shading, and pigment it possessed made it worthy of a mural across the ceiling of some prestigious building. Mountains lay ahead of him dotting the horizon with snow-capped summits, and highlighted by a mid-day crescent moon that was overhead of them.

After a few more observations, Gohan sat upright, and decided that he should start figuring out where he actually was. After the scent of baking filled his nose once more, he decided that there must be a house nearby, and that meant there must be people. They could tell him where he was, and maybe they would be kind enough to give him something to eat. He stood, sniffed the air, and turned to the left, where the smell was coming from, and took off leisurely for the skies.

As the smell became stronger, he soon saw that it was coming from what appeared to be a small cottage, on the edge of a dense forest. He landed a few feet away from the cottage, and walked towards the entrance. He now saw a sign above the door that clearly read "Flute's Fine Baked Goods". It was most likely a home-run business, so guests were welcome. However, it did not look like an ideal place for a bakery: the only other sign of civilization was a small, infrequently used path that ran to deep into the forest.

He walked to the front door, and to his relief, it was open. He walked in, and inhaled deeply. He loved the smell of bakeries. The first room was in a café-styled arrangement, where low four-seating tables filled the centre of the room, and the side walls were lined with display cases showing delicious-looking cakes, pies, and other desserts. The far wall had more displays, a large wood stove and oven, and a wooden counter. Behind and to the right of the counter was a door, leading probably to the actual house. It was overall very appealing, but it was a little sad though: no one was in the bakery.

"Ah," came a male voice from the door behind the counter, "Who do we have here? A customer! Come in, come in!" The door opened, revealing a man on the verge of elderliness, with greying hair that was obviously once black and kind wrinkles on his face. Behind him came a woman of similar age, with a warm smile and a milky-white film draping ahead of her eyes. She was blind.

"Who is it, Francis? Describe the good chap to me, if you wouldn't mind," she asked sweetly to the man. It was unmistakable by the way she spoke to him that they were a married couple.

"Certainly dear, but first, let's welcome him," he responded, and then turned his attention to Gohan, "Don't be shy, boy! Take off your shoes, come sit down!"

Gohan respectfully took off his shoes, placed them in their appropriate spot, and walked up to the couple, who was now kneeling at a nearby table, smiling a polite welcome. It was quite obvious that they did not get many customers.

"Ah, there's a good lad," the man said as Gohan bowed to the couple and sat down across from them, "You are a fine young man, aren't you? Quite charming with that blond hair and green eyes- you must get it from your parents, I suppose. But my- you must have been in quite a tussle! You're covered in gashes and bruises- and blood! Are you okay, son?"

Gohan nodded, and assured the people that he was fine. He managed to not react to the parent comment, for his now clear mind told him that these people had no idea of what his family was like. He did, however, look up at his hair, not realising that he was a Super Saiyan until now. He was fine with this, though: he and his father had figured out how to control their Super Saiyan power so they could remain one without all of the dangerous use and consumption of energy. He was also in quite a gruesome condition- his entire body was gashed and bruised-_ … I …_ - and some blood still lingered on his hand- Vegeta's blood, he repugnantly realised. He suddenly remembered that Vegeta must be seriously hurt and he would have to make his stay brief. The woman nodded, satisfied with the description of the customer.

"Now, tell us, kind sir, what is your name?" She asked politely.

"It is Gohan, ma'am," he hastily responded, "It is very nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," the man answered, "I am Francis Flute, and this is my wife, Thisbe. Now, what brings you to our humble little shop?"

Gohan paused before he answered. He felt bad about only coming for directions, when these people were obviously is desperate need of some customers. He needed to get out fast, though- _what about Vegeta?_ He discreetly felt around in his pocket; he had some money, but not a lot.

_What can I do?_

"Uh, I haven't really decided yet on what I'm buying. I'll take a look around." He said, which was half-true. He promptly looked around, and all of the food looked delicious. There was every type of cookie imaginable, elaborately decorative cakes fit for a wedding, and fluffy-looking loafs of bread cooling after just being baked. He guessed that he had about enough money for half a dozen cookies, and a loaf of bread at best. However, he did not want to be in the awkward situation where he asked for more than he could afford, so he embarrassingly took out his pitiful amount of money, and counted up how much he had. The couple smiled, but the man eyes drooped somewhat sadly, disappointed that this wasn't a big spender.

After counting out what there was enough money for, Gohan found himself with some chewy oatmeal cookies, a small loaf of bread that smelt faintly of cheese, and a slice of chocolate pie. He sat down, and he hurriedly gobbled the pie in front of the couple, which made him feel uncomfortable. However, that discomfort quickly vanished when he tasted how good the pie was. It took only a few bites, and soon the entire slice was gone, and he found himself chewing greedily on the oatmeal cookies, suddenly and blissfully remembering how good food tasted. After the cookies were gone- which only took a few moments- he even found himself eating the bread right from the loaf- it was that good!

He was now disappointed that he did not have more money not only because he wanted to help these people, but because the food was so good, it left him wanting more. He complimented the couple on their baking skills, but they were very humble, and assured him that they were just "simple people with a simple gift".

He thanked them once more, and after being told the directions to South City- that he was presently east of- he left without delay. He took off, glanced back once, and then headed towards the Capsule Corporation Headquarters. His objective was clear in his mind, and while he felt like something had to be done for this kind family, he knew that it would have to wait.

* * *

This was pretty short, wasn't it? Ah well, I had to leave it off there. The next chapter is going to be where things start coming into perspective, so I am eager to post it.

I apologize if you dislike my original characters. They play only a minor role, so you don't have to worry about anything mind-numbingly crazy happening with them. I have a little quiz for you though- who can tell me where their names come from? I was_ not_ feeling creative with names, so I kind of... borrowed them... but their creator won't mind.

…I hope.

Anyway, impress me by knowing your literature! I hope to see you here next time, and if you are suddenly craving some chewy oatmeal cookies, or have some sentiments about this chapter, feel free to review.

Until next time, warriors!!!!


	6. Chapter Six: Of Shame and Sorrow

Wow. I can't believe how quickly you guys ate up that last chapter- and it was basically Gohan stuffing his face with cookies and pie! Congratulations to Night'sBullet who recognized the name Thisbe from a Shakespearean Play- A Midsummer Night's Dream, to be precise. Francis Flute was also from the same play- in fact, he was the one who played Thisbe in a performance that the characters put on for the marriage of Theseus and Hippolyta. But I won't get into that. It's onwards to the next chapter!

Shorter, but one of my favourite chapters. Here we go-

Chapter Six

* * *

Gohan arrived at the building in a short while, when dusk was just beginning to settle, and immediately saw Bulma, who was outside with the now walking infant, Trunks. She was very pleased when she saw him approaching, and waved him down.

"Gohan! My, where have you been? You look like you just fell out of a tree! Chi-Chi's been looking for you for ages! She's been quite worried, since you didn't come home. I knew nothing bad could have happened to you, but my, she hasn't been able to rest since you left!" Bulma explained.

Gohan took a little guilt at this: worrying his mother meant that he was going to get an earful when he got home. He had done so before, and even just being gone a half-hour after he guessed he was going to be gone meant serious trouble. He was not looking forward to getting back now.

"…so tell me Gohan, why are you here? Just to see little old me, I suppose," she asked, before adding, "But you really should go to your mother first. She's worried sick!"

"Actually Bulma, I was wondering if Vegeta was here," he replied somewhat solemnly.

"Huh? Vegeta? I'm sorry Gohan; he's been missing for quite some time now."

Gohan's heart skipped a beat.

"For some time? How long- how long has he been gone for?"

"Uh… let's see… well, I'd have to say about a month ago. Around the time you went missing, actually."

He blinked his eyes in disbelief.

"A m-month, Bulma? Ar-are you sure?" He stuttered.

"Yep, somewhere around there. I really better call your mom; she must be flabbergasted as to where you are! Boy, will she be happy when she sees you again!"

Gohan really was not looking forward to heading home now. _A month?! How could I be gone for that long? _He suddenly thought of the abyss he was in. _It must have been like the opposite of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber… like a Hypobolic Time Chamber, or something. Whatever it was, the time passing in it was shorter than the time that passed in the real world. Or was it? The time did not seem to pass at all… for all I know, I could have been stuck in there thinking for an entire month... or eternity._

"Do you know where he was heading t-" Gohan started, before realising that he already knew. Vegeta was heading for the insane power level that he felt- Gohan himself. He quickly changed his question, and lost his cool head, "Aren't you worried about him, Bulma? Something… something could have happened to him! We have to look for him!"

Bulma- who was at that time watching the little Trunks chase a bird around- suddenly looked up at Gohan sceptically.

"Gohan, this is Vegeta. Nothing and one would dare to hurt him- and they wouldn't be able to if they did. Besides, he used to always leave to go train for weeks on end- and I'm just glad that he has started to do so again! Ever since your dad died, he hasn't had the drive to train anymore, y'know? I think he thought of him as a goal- he always had the ambition to surpass him, and now that he's dead, he doesn't have that anymore," she explained, with a sad sigh. She then looked up at Gohan, who was visibly on the verge of tears, "Gohan! What's wrong? What's happened? Why are you so worried?"

Gohan desperately wanted to explain, but Bulma would never forgive him for what he did. Before he could give any reason, he kicked off to the skies in a flood of tears and energy. He was once again losing control, but he paid no attention to that. His mind was focused on the cruel reality it had accepted.

_I-I can't believe it… I __**killed**__ Vegeta… I **killed **him! And for what? No reason! No reason whatsoever! I had just senselessly attacked him because he was there-! My father was right to question why I had done it- _

Gohan stopped in his tracks as his mind calmed slightly and finally remembered the imperative detail.

His father. His father had been there.

_He was there. He have gone to tend to Vegeta. There is no way that he had just left Vegeta there to die. He had to have done __**something**__. I… I awoke somewhere else- I didn't just go there while I was incapacitated! He… he must have moved me there- there is no other explanation! Vegeta would have been healed and moved as well-_

_Wait. Why wasn't Vegeta with me? I don't think that Dad would have put him someplace else… would he? Maybe he thought that awaking to the sight of each other would have been too much too soon. Or maybe… maybe he couldn't help Vegeta. Maybe… maybe I hurt him too badly. Maybe it was impossible for him to help him… and… and Vegeta just… he just… he just…_

…

_…_

_What have I done … ?!_

Gohan was still thinking, completely unaware that he was floating high above the middle of South City, and doing a marvellous job of drawing attention to himself. Countless cars had gathered below the strange sight- a young, golden-haired boy floating above the city, increasingly powerful energy waves emanating from him, and cobalt sparks amid a golden aura surrounding his quivering body. They gazed upwards, some of them thinking he was in trouble and needed to be helped- 'he was only a child, after all.' Others feared for their lives- this was one of those beasts that could destroy an entire city with a flick of their finger- 'his kind needed to be stopped!' One among the crowd, however, immediately recognised the young Saiyan, and knew something had to be done to stop and help him.

Krillin looked around, and when he saw that no one was looking his way, he cautiously left the crowd and searched for the people who knew Gohan, so that they could find a way to help. He had to hurry- if he didn't, the entire city could be destroyed before he even got back.

* * *

Gohan remained a spectacle for a while longer, but only for those who hadn't taken shelter from his erupting energy waves. His mind was fixated with the thoughts of his lethal attack on Vegeta and how he had failed his father again. His mental self was dipping in and out of true consciousness, swaying between the empty abyss and the real world. His physical self, though, remained only in the real world, and it was continuing to radiate energy.

After what seemed like an eternity, he definitively snapped into reality, and screamed with the realisation that not only was he the cause of his father's death- passively, but nevertheless the cause- but he also single-handedly murdered Vegeta in cold blood. His hands were fixed to side of his head, pulling at his golden-blond hair- not ripping it out, but on the verge of doing so.

_I couldn't have done this… it can't be possible… this is all just a nightmare… I am going to wake up… everything will be alright … there was never any fight with Cell… Father never died… everything is just a dream…_

He tried so hard to believe this, but he knew it wasn't true. This was no dream; this was life. He created it from the decisions he made, and so all of this pain and suffering was his fault.

_It was all my fault- no one else's but mine- this was caused all by me- I am to blame…_his mind couldn't stop. He was psychologically harming himself, and if he didn't stop, it was obvious that the consequences would be dire.

His attention was suddenly brought to outside of himself as he felt the presence of other life forces. He suddenly saw Krillin, Tien, Yamcha, and his other friends and allies, obviously worried about him, and willing to help. The face that struck him most of all was Piccolo. Once he saw the seemingly apathetic and cool face, he immediately saw all of the hidden emotion that everyone else would miss: worry, compassion, panic, and a strong will to help the demi-Saiyan- help he greatly needed. As Gohan looked amongst the faces, though, he closed his eyes tightly and swallowed his shaking breaths as he realised something: he was undeserving of accepting this help. Guilt alone of what he did to Vegeta and his father was enough conviction for him to give himself the sentence.

Finally he was positive of what the problem was and what he was going to have to do to fix it. He was guiltily aware, though, that he had known for a while. Almost for a year he had known that this was how he was going to have to solve the problem in the end. He only wished that he had done so sooner. He could have spared Vegeta his life. At least now he was going to be able to prevent any more senseless destruction.

_…I know what I must do._

He glanced around to the people surrounding him, and did something that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

He smiled at them.

It was a far from comforting smile, despite the obvious happiness behind it. It was filled with a strong sense of regret, but still he sighed heavily with what could only be described as relief. His teal eyes sparkled with the tears he was obviously holding back, and when he finally closed his eyes he couldn't help but let one heartfelt tear stream down his cheek. As it plummeted to the Earth far below, he humbly lowered his head and whispered almost inaudibly.

"Forgive me."

Everyone around him opened their mouths to say something back, but before they could even make a noise, Gohan completely lowered the self-restraints on himself. The energy came forth without any warning. The warriors around him brought their arms up to shield their eyes, and attempted to prevent themselves from being thrust aside. This attempt was wasted, however, as they were one by one driven back by the power. Eventually only Piccolo remained, determinedly believing that Gohan was out of control, and was in desperate need of help to suppress his power. As he peered through his arms, though, he saw that Gohan was simply hovering there, doing nothing in attempt to stop his power. He simply had his head tilted downward in shame of what he was doing.

_Intentionally doing._

He was not compelling his power out- if he was, he would have given an ear-splitting scream. Instead, he silently stood there and just released the already summoned power. The energy came forth and never stopped. It seemed almost infinite- and that was what worried Piccolo above all.

_How could such a young boy contain so much power? _

When Gohan looked up, he was hoping to see that everyone was gone. However, when he saw Piccolo, his face visibly saddened, altough he still wore the unsettling smile. He exhaled slowly as the energy gradually reduced to a tolerable discharge. As Piccolo composed himself, one word floated to his ears.

"Farewell."

Gohan tore away before Piccolo could even acknowledge the parting- he simply stood in shock. He never knew before how much terror a single word could put in someone. He was stunned for a few seconds- ten at the most. Ten seconds, and then he chased after the young Saiyan as fast as his body would take him.

Little did he know how precious those ten seconds were.

* * *

_…thoughts?_


	7. Chapter Seven: Warmth and Cold

I have to apologize for the late update- I had some computer issues with uploading my document. Also, this will be the last update for a little while, so your patience is appreciated. Let's just get on with the story. I have a strong feeling that I chose a bad one to leave off on...

Chapter Seven

* * *

Gohan was much quicker than Piccolo, and the farther he flew, the more distance he gained ahead of him. His thoughts were blank, his mind locked at the single objective he now possessed. He was not sure of where he was headed, but somehow knew that it would be obvious when he got there. Destiny was now controlling his life- and every decision, turn, or even breath that he took was influencing his fate.

He suddenly knew that he had arrived at the place after the sun had completely set, twinkling stars shining through a cloudless, moonless night. How he knew, he was unsure- all it could be described as was a "gut feeling", but really that did not portray it well, for it was more than just an impulse. It was more like he had known all along, but had forgotten up until then. The place that he arrived at was undistinguishable from kilometres around it: a large, wild orchard, filled with apple and cherry trees, that were all in bloom. He looked around for a moment, surveying the area carefully. Everything around him was the picture-perfect representation of Spring, but he never even considered what that meant: the approach of his birthday. Instead of realising this, he simply noted how pretty the area was. He liked that. His heart lightened substantially as he brought his focus back to his task, and the end was in sight.

With all of the resolve he could muster, he looked to the sky.

He looked past the sky, past the unseen moon and sun, past the stars, past everything visible, and fixed his eyes on the distant, isolated place that beckoned him- a place not reachable by the living. As he gazed at this place he inhaled determinedly and spoke, despite the fact that he was just as alone as he felt.

"…I have accepted the precious and valued gift of life since I was born, and for that I am forever appreciative and grateful for. Recently, I have realised the true nature of myself, and I now know that I am not worthy of this blessing. I was bestowed with a dangerous power, and I thought this power should be used to better the world… but it can't. I know that this is not possible now. I have become conscious that this power was given to me so that I could vanquish the uncontrolled evil that threatened the earth: Cell. I have done this, and so my duty for life has been completed. I believe that whatever powers determine the world's future predestined me to die fighting, but another's sacrifice was accepted in exchange for my life. This was not how it should have been, but it nevertheless happened, and there is no changing it. Now, I am not only hurting the people of Earth, but doing so consciously and on my own accord, causing harm to both the innocent and the guilty. But these actions come with consequences- even if I was to rid the world of a thousand evils, it would never justify any harm I would have caused to the innocent.

"I can stop this madness. I see only one way to do so, and it would be for the benefit of not only my own well being, but for all the inhabitants of this world. I am truly thankful to everyone I have ever met, for making my existence so meaningful and wonderful to experience."

What Gohan did not know was that Piccolo was catching up to him- and he was horrifically able to hear every word that he said. He knew what was happening, and pushed his body to the edge of its limits. He couldn't fly fast enough- he needed to get there _now_.

Gohan never took his eyes off of the heavens.

"Father… I am forever sorry for all of the times that I have failed you, and everyone else that has counted on me. My actions throught my life have been failures, causing the suffering of so many. I have failed in life, and so I come to you in death in reparation for my actions. I join you now- it is impossible for me to continue on.

"Forgive me, Dad…"

His eyes were reflecting the divine starlight as he continued to stare at the distant refuge. He stared past everything visible and invisible, and as he did so he searched deep inside himself, past everything he was conscious of and able to control, past everything that he was not able to control, past his remembered memories, past his forgotten memories, to the most private, intimate part of his subconsciousness. When he finally reached this deep and profound crevice, he searched around and felt what he was looking for: a tiny protrusion, thread-like and almost too small to find. He took a moment to thoroughly observe it- he did not have any sight, sound, taste, or smell in this small, confined area, but he did have a small amount of sense of touch here. What he did feel was not softness, hardness, pain or comfort, but rather a gut-wrenching, tugging emotional sense. As he found this small protuberance, he felt almost every emotion that could be felt- but not rampantly and harshly. It was like a soft embrace of emotions that enveloped around him. Gohan immediately knew what this small strand of emotional turmoil was. As he mentally seized it, he felt just how fragile it was and suddenly felt empowered beyond belief. He felt like he was able to do anything, and as a first and final act of this newfound authority, he resolutely tightened his grasp the string, and snapped it in two.

"_GOHAN!_" Piccolo shouted, not attempting to hide his panic. Gohan's energy signal had just skyrocketed, and then disappeared completely. Piccolo had arrived at the orchard just in time to see Gohan's eyes flare gold, with his pupils disappearing completely. His head jerked upwards and he released one final, immense energy wave before he immediately powered down to his normal state and began to fall. Piccolo ran up and managed to catch the young Saiyan, who looked weakly back into his face. The usually sparkling ebony eyes were now dull, and the light behind them was fading. Fast.

"P…Pic…" was all he could say, his voice leaving him.

_Piccolo… no… not now…_

He attempted to squirm free from Piccolo's arms, but his body felt massively heavy and impossible to move. He gave up his attempt at freedom with much reluctance.

This wasn't how he wanted it to be.

"…L………………….l…………………………...l………………" He could no longer form words in his mouth- all that escaped was a pained cough.

_Leave me… this is how it must be… _

"Gohan! Hold on! You'll be alright- just hold on!"

_Forgive me… I've… failed you… too many times…_

Piccolo looked at Gohan with shimmering eyes.

"Gohan, no! Don't do this!"

_Pl…ease… this… this… is… how…… it ……… is sup…posed……………… t……to…………… be……_

Gohan now even found it hard to think. It was more and more difficult to do anything- his vision and hearing faded right before him. Every breath he drew in took more energy to inhale than it gave him, and as consequence, his breathing gradually slowed. His heart was failing too, for every beat pushed the blood further away, but failed to draw it back. Even more horrendous would be when the beat paused for an agonizingly long moment, and then resumed its pulse. Each time it did- which became increasingly often- the half-Saiyan would give a small, pained and breathless gasp, and his eyes would loose all of their life for a brief moment before he was abruptly jolted back into the world of the living.

Gohan's death was far from quick and painless.

"Gohan…" Piccolo whispered. The boy began to shiver softly in his arms, and his body was beginning to lose its natural warmth.

"…c-c-c………c-c…" he stuttered.

_S………so……………c……c………cold…………_

After several long, heartbreaking moments, the shivering subsided. A sudden wind came up and caused a storm of apple and cherry blossoms to detach from the trees and fall all around the horror-struck Namek and dying Saiyan. Gohan's eyes grew brighter at the sight of them, and for a brief moment Piccolo thought that he was coming around as the young Saiyan gave a feeble laugh.

This final hope was soon utterly and ultimately shattered.

The wind stole his laughter away, and his body fell limp and unmoving in Piccolo's arms. The life in his eyes completely faded with the far-off destination and blossom shower burnt forever as their final image.

* * *

...


	8. Chapter Eight: Acceptance

Sorry for the long-ish wait for an update guys. That was probably a really bad chapter to leave off on, but at least I'm back now with a... really short chappie. Heh heh. Oops. I promise that the next update will be sooner than the previous, and a nice, long one.

So many passionate reviews from the viewers. None as crazy as I expected, but that's alright. Shows I have room for improvement.

Well, enough rambling from me.

Chapter Eight

* * *

"…Gohan… …no… …no… …no… …no…" Piccolo said again and again. He just couldn't accept it.

_No…it can't be true… …Gohan…_

Piccolo gazed into the now lifeless face. His former student and cherished companion, whom he had accompanied and lived with for years on end, was dead. Piccolo was horror-stricken, appalled, and traumatized beyond comprehension. He sat there, and did not move an inch until the other warriors arrived many empty minutes later. They walked towards Piccolo, who was kneeling on the ground and as silent as everything else around him.

"Piccolo, where's Go-" Krillin started, before he caught sight of the humble body motionless in Piccolo's arms. He stopped in his tracks, as his mind gave a shriek of terror as it realised what that meant. "Piccolo… he's… he's not… please tell me he's not…"

Piccolo's head dropped mournfully in answer to the question.

"No…"

"……………"

"Gohan can't be…"

"……………"

"……………"

"He's not…"

"……………"

"……………"

"……………"

"…but how Piccolo?"

Piccolo did not know who asked the question, as his mind was too overwhelmed with shock. His did, however, manage to sputter out the answer.

"He… he… he thought that he was to blame… he… he thought that he was endangering the lives of everyone… he thought that he failed us all… he… he thought that the world was better off without him… he…he committed… suicide…"

Everyone present fell silent. Had they been told this before this moment, none of them would believe that such a cheerful boy, full of so much vigour and potential, who only ever thought of doing good deeds to others, would take his own life. Now however, it was all too real, and there was no debate as to whether or not that was what happened.

Not one of them took their eyes from the motionless corpse in Piccolo's arms as they all fell to their knees. Piccolo set the body on the ground, with the peculiar little smile frozen on his still warm face. He was blankly staring at it, still trying so hard to accept the fact that he was dead. He did not cry; he was in too much mental pain to even breathe.

Piccolo, with shaking hands, closed the young Saiyan's eyelids- the sight of the unresponsive eyes was too much for him to bear. When his eyes were closed, it appeared like Gohan could just be sleeping- and everything inside him wanted to believe that he would just wake up. But there was something that proclaimed itself as "wise" that did not allow himself to believe it- it told him that, if anything, he needed to accept the fact that Gohan was dead and move on.

That was something he was unable to comply to.

As he looked at the lifeless body, he found himself examining the state of it without even thinking- he seemed to have some instinct that this was the last time he would ever be able to see the demi-Saiyan, and he refused to allow himself forget what he looked like. What he found while he studied it, though, was far from comforting for his grief. The first thing that he had noticed was the scars: numerous, unsightly, and gruesomely fashioned scars- far too much for one so young. The most obvious one was the large incision on his forehead he received so long ago, on that fateful day- it was open and blood from the demi-Saiyan's last heartbeats was drying on his face. It never occurred to Piccolo about this until now- _why hadn't Dende's healing powers removed it?_ It was like some cruel joke of fate, for since it didn't heal, every time Gohan had seen his reflection he saw the testament to the battle with Cell- and his father's death, which he blamed on himself.

_How could a child live like that?_

There were other scars that Piccolo found his attention drawn to as well, but felt ashamed at the fact that he was not aware of their existence. Deep gashes in both of his arms, palms and thighs- some of them fresh, others bruised and therefore older. Dozens upon dozens of them, deep enough to disrupt the normal uniformity skin was supposed to posses, and all of them failing to heal or disappear from view. The most disturbing part about these injuries to Piccolo was the cause for them- and based on the resilience of Gohan from previous battles, he could only think of one way in which such wounds could appear multiple times and in the same manner.

They were self-inflicted.

_What a fool I was! I should have seen this before- why was I so blind as to not notice it?! He was obviously depressed… I could have made him talk about it! He didn't understand that it wasn't his fault that his father died._

…_It's my fault. I-I knew that something was wrong. I could have prevented it…I could have saved him…_

…_oh Gohan…_

Piccolo's mind was filled with the images of a tear-ridden Gohan giving himself these wounds- it was sickening in how many ways he could think of. He found himself shutting his eyes in an attempt to make the horrific images stop, but still they followed and haunted him. He momentarily was lost in his terror, but soon changed that to a cruel recognition of how he should have been aware of this- he _should_ have seen this sooner.

_I should have visited him more often-! He… he probably felt like he had no one to talk to… no one who cared…if I had went to see him…I could have maybe been there for him to talk to… I could have prevented this! How was I so presumptuous as to think that he was just going to be alright with his father's death? I should have been aware of how hard he would take it- I know how his mind works…_

_I had even seen him first-hand clench his fists so hard as to draw blood- why didn't I see how depressed he truly was?! _

_...I was such a fool…_

…_you aren't the one who needs to apologize, Gohan. I am. I have failed you, as a mentor and as a friend. I should have talked to you…it was my mistake, and you were the one to pay for it. My fault has gone far beyond asking for forgiveness. I will see to it that your wishes are fulfilled. I will never forget you…and I am going to make sure that nobody else will either. _

Piccolo wasn't about to fail his student again. He, with the utmost care, picked the fragile-appearing young Saiyan up, and promptly took off to the skies. The other fighters regained their senses, and followed right after him, all sombre-faced.

* * *

The location Piccolo chose was morbid, but well suited for the intent he had. His determination made him travel quickly, and he arrived at the cemetery in only a few trying minutes of flying. The site was even less admirable than the month ago when Piccolo and Gohan met. However, Piccolo was convinced that this was where it should be. He placed the meek body on the ground- _so helpless and innocent_- and then took to the air. He raised his hand, and shot a beam of energy at the ground, making a fissure in the ground surrounding and encasing the perimeter of the cemetery. He looked to the baffled faces of the other warriors, and coldly commanded them with a single statement.

"Let's get to work."

* * *

Hmm... kind of an anti-climatic chapter after the last one, huh? Next one is the longest yet, if I remember correctly. Reviews are always welcome, no matter the contents. Next update is soon.

Until next time, warriors!!!


	9. Chapter Nine: Choices

Alright all of you intense readers, here's something that I believe will satisfy you! A nice long chapter, with lots of intense action. It has to be one of my favourites, so enjoy every moment of it. So let's not tarry!

Chapter Eight

* * *

Death was not as welcoming as it seemed.

Gohan was half-expecting to be in that endless abyss again, but accompanied by his father, which would make it a paradise. Instead, he found himself in a crowded line filled with little wisps of smoke, himself being the only body for miles. He heard obnoxious voices telling him to wait patiently for his turn at "judgement", which he was not looking forward to. His one-track mind was still telling him that everything would be better now that he ridded the world of a dangerous being: himself. Even if he did do so many numerous bad deeds in life, perhaps his final act as of the living would be redemption for his soul.

After hours of waiting- this place had a distinct feeling of time- Gohan found himself in front of a gigantic desk, filled by an equally gigantic being that looked somewhat like a demon, due to his red skin, all-encompassing beard, and horns- although the horns could have simply been decoration on his hat.

King Yemma tapped his pencil with impatience, quickly deciding the fates of a dozen people within a split-second. When he came to the profile of the young Saiyan, though, he paused and caused the once efficient system came to a standstill.

"Huh? Gohan? That can't be right…" he questioned to himself as he flipped through a monstrous book, "Why, he's not scheduled to come here yet… hmm… you there!"

"Me, sir?" Gohan meekly inquired, feeling very small in front of the gargantuan being.

"Yes, you," the King replied, "Would you mind telling me how you managed to wind up here so early in your life?"

Gohan fell silent, and looked at the ground.

"Now, now, no need for shame boy. I have seen some of the craziest situations where people end up here. Come now, what was it?"

Gohan still remained silent.

"Oh come now, there are no secrets here. Look here- you had gotten a perfect record of life up until now! Not too many people can say that, eh?"

The demi-Saiyan's eyes met the King's. He was doubtful that he was telling the truth.

"I… I can't have had a perfect record… that can't be true…" He said more to himself than the gigantic demon-king.

"Oh, on the contrary, it is quite true. Your life is a perfect example of how to live- this is going to get you right to the good place! I should know that you have been good- I don't make mistakes," he answered.

"Then why is my father here before me?!" Gohan snapped back.

King Yemma looked down at him, baffled at what this young child could be saying.

"I don't know what you mean, boy. Most fathers die well before their children. What _I_ am wondering is why you think you should be here before your father is, and why you are here in the first… place…

"…oh. I see," he said, his face growing solemn, and now not even looking at Gohan, "You're one of the leave-takers. You chose to come here yourself."

He shook his head in pity.

"I'm really sorry, son. That gives you a one-way ticket to Hell, even with your stellar record. Sorry- there are no exceptions."

"Wh-what?" Gohan stuttered, stumbling back as his mind reeled at the understanding of how his decision was going to affect him, "You mean, I-I don't even get to see my father? After all that happened?"

"I am afraid not," King Yemma replied, picking up the stamp that decreed the ill-fated sentence.

Gohan, even in Other World, was losing control once more- he had just failed again. He attempted to stifle a sob, but even his most valiant effort could not stop it. He sobbed, then again, and again, and again, much to the annoyance of King Yemma.

"Really, son, it is not all that bad-" he tried to condole, but to no avail. Gohan had completely broken down now- he was on his knees, and tears rolled non-stop down his face.

"No… no… no…no…no…no…" he muttered to himself, every 'no' gaining a hint of ferocity with each repetition, "No…no…no… no… no…no…no…no…no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, _no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! No! No! NO! NO!_

"_**NO**_!"

He was shouting now at the top of his lungs, head thrust upwards, and eyes shut closed in a futile attempt to block out the tears. He no longer needed air, so he continued and continued to yell without stop. The tremors of energy had returned, and they were increasing exponentially in power with each passing moment. His Super Saiyan self was on the verge of snapping again when he felt a warm breath on the back of his neck and a familiar voice in his ear.

"Now, is this any way to deal with your problems? I thought you knew better."

Gohan stopped shouting, and brought his head down to reveal a surprised and tear-filled face.

"Daddy?"

That warm breath sent cold shockwaves of despair down his spine from a far too fresh memory.

He turned around, and saw the angelic form of his father: Goku, this time smiling and welcoming. Gohan hesitated, for he was questioning if this was real. After deciding that it did not matter, he rushed to his father and held him as close to himself as he could, and so tightly that any normal person would have cracked in two. His father, however, simply returned the hug, and pressed his son's head to his shoulder as the young Saiyan continued to sob. The trembling body of the boy was matched by the trembling shockwaves erupting from him. His father softy stroked the rising golden hair, and whispered softly into the ear of his son.

"Conceal it… we don't need it right now… just put it away… this isn't the time for it… that's right… it is just us here… no need for this…"

Gohan was trying so hard to do what his father said, but he couldn't help but stutter his plea between sobs.

"B-but D-dad- I-I failed- I did so much wrong- I-I failed you- I hurt-t so m-many people- V-Veget-ta a-and P-Pic-colo- a-and you- I failed you- oh Dad- I failed- forgive me-"

"Hush now… just be quiet… silence will help… we will get to that stuff later…"

And so he did, and after almost half an hour, he had powered and quieted down, until he stopped sobbing, so he just sniffled and wiped his eyes, which were now red from the amount of tearshed they had endured.

"There. Now, isn't that better?" He asked, lowering Gohan to the ground with his arms supporting his son's shoulders. The young Saiyan responded with the nod of the head, but nothing more.

"Now then," he said, turning his attention to the monstrous being behind the desk, "what seems to be the problem, King Yemma? I didn't think we were allowed visitors."

"Uh, actually, young Gohan here is not visiting. He's moving in for keeps." King Yemma responded.

"What? I haven't been in here for that long, have I? Gohan couldn't have died yet." He questioned aloud, now noticing the small Halo floating above Gohan's head.

"Unfortunately, he has."

Goku scratched the back of his head in thought.

"Well, how did that happen? Not that it matters, though- now we can be together! This is going to be great-"

"Actually, Goku, it does matter," King Yemma corrected, "It does matter, because Gohan died because he took his own life."

Goku chuckled, for he took this as a joke. Something so absurd and out of character for Gohan couldn't be correct. After seeing the look on King Yemma's face, he second-guessed himself.

"You're joking. This isn't true," he said, before looking to his son in confirmation. He only got a glance, though, before Gohan hung his head, his hair blocking any further sight of his eyes. He was shaking, and he couldn't stop himself from weeping shamelessly again. Goku once again attempted to comfort him, but even he was shocked at his son's actions.

"…is this true? You…. how… I… wh…" He wanted to ask, but knew that the bombardment of questions were not appropriate right now. Gohan surprised him though, and managed to calm himself enough so that he could explain.

"Dad… it was so hard to live without you. I didn't realise it before how much you mean to me- but after you were gone I just couldn't live normally again. I had thought that if I went to the place where you-you-" he choked on the word, "you died, I would be able to feel better and be able to go on. But… when I got there, all of these people were there, and they were going to unveil a big statue, and I thought for sure it was going to be for you! But- but it was just for some guy who claimed that he defeated Cell, when he didn't! You did!"

Goku was about to correct Gohan, but decided to hold his tongue.

"Not only that, but when they listed all of the people who Cell had killed, they didn't mention you! It- it was disgraceful, and disrespectful to you, and they were just going to forget you, and it was all just too much and I…I…"

Gohan paused, and swallowed his tears back. He was so worried about what his father would think when he told him what he did, but he knew he had to.

"I-I just exploded. I couldn't help it… it was just uncontrollable. I destroyed the big statue, and I was about to-to-" he choked again, "-to kill them. I know that I was going to kill them all- but- but Piccolo! Piccolo managed to intervene just before I had gotten out of hand. He was keeping my attention towards him b-by attacking me, but I couldn't help but attack back. He d-didn't stand a chance, and I just didn't let up. It's disgusting, but… oh, Dad, I was _enjoying_ the pain of Piccolo! I just c-couldn't stop, it just felt so _right_. I don't even know what did make me stop, but all of a sudden I suddenly was aware of what I was doing, b-but by that time I… I had nearly killed Piccolo! I quickly got him to Dende, and he was healed, b-but I was still so angry and enraged, that I couldn't calm myself down. Piccolo tried to help, but I got so frustrated with him that I left. He followed me, but I just snapped at him and told him that I didn't need his help. I should have listened to him… he… he might have been able to help me. But I didn't. I just left him there, and I went somewhere where I could go and-and be alone. B-but I guess my energy level was extremely high, because Vegeta came and found me. He c-came looking for a good fight, and that's what I gave him. A-actually, I just toyed with him for a bit, and that got him really angry. I d-don't know why but… he started to talk about you, and said that you were low-class scum, a-and how you were a fool, and-and-and it was just so awful t-to hear him talk about you like that. I tried so hard to remain calm, but he didn't stop, a-and I eventually cracked. I was so angry, I just punched him so hard he-he-he-he…" he gave a small shiver when he recalled the gruesome memory, "then… then it was you. You came, and were going to help Vegeta, and you came an-and you did what Piccolo couldn't."

Goku held Gohan a little closer, and received a furious glare from King Yemma that said that he and shouldn't have done that.

"Gohan, I'm so sorry for that."

Gohan looked up at his father questioningly, for in his mind no one but himself had any need for apologizing.

"I-I thought about what you had said. I thought that because I was aware of my actions being wrong, that I was different from all of the evil in the world. B-but that's not true- almost all of the people that I have met that have done evil knew that what they were doing was wrong- that's why they did it. I had thought that, perhaps, there was a chance of me being able to change for the better. I-I don't want to hurt people! I had went to look for Vegeta- I had to see if he was alright- but Bulma had told me that he and I were missing for a month, a-and she wasn't even worried- she just thought he was training or something. But I knew what had happened- it was my fault- I know I killed him. I was going to tell Bulma about it- b-but she would never forgive me! She looked so happy with Trunks- I had robbed him of his father! He was never even going to meet his dad; he was going to have to go through his _entire_ life without one- and I know how truly awful just a few _months _are. I-I didn't have the bravery to tell her, and I just left her there- she's going to always think that Vegeta is just gone, and she's always going to be waiting for him- but he's never going to come, because I killed him! I killed him, for no reason- I didn't even have a reason! That makes me even worse- there was no good cause for his death- I was just so cruel and wicked- I-I just felt the power to end his life, and I knew I could do it- the power went to my head… again."

He inhaled slowly in an attempt to calm his nerves, realising that now he was just rambling senselessly.

"So I left Bulma, and I tried so hard to make sense of what I had done- tried to give myself an excuse to why I did those horrible things- but I couldn't find any. I was just evil, a-and cruel, a-and wicked, and I thought that my existence was putting the lives of all of the other people of the Earth in danger. If I could kill Vegeta, one of the strongest people in the Universe, imagine what I would do to the innocent, vulnerable and helpless people of the Earth? I only needed to be mocked- or irritated- or- or- or anything, and I would just hurt everyone in my path- I'm not able to stop myself! I only saw one way to put an end to the threat- and that was to make sure that the source would never be able hurt anyone again…ever."

As he finished his account of the events, he allowed himself to slump over in his father's arms, and simply being with his dad seemed to help all of his horrific memories become more and more distant. The pain that came along with them- both physical and mental- dulled, but was still present. He did not move for a few minutes, and he wouldn't have moved from that place at all if he had the choice. He could have just been there, in his father's arms, for all of eternity, and he wouldn't have minded one bit; in fact, it would have been pure joy for him. His delight, however, was cut short by King Yemma, who addressed the two Saiyans sheltered by a very heart-felt embrace.

"Excuse me now, Goku, but to the matter at hand," he decreed. Goku brought Gohan up from his shoulder, and turned him slightly so that he was facing the king, but Gohan, nevertheless, hung his head, and his hair still blocked any sight of his eyes and the majority of his face. Goku looked up at King Yemma, who continued his declaration, "No matter what the circumstances of it were, the fact remains that Gohan took his own life. The rules clearly state that this serves as an automatic sentence to Hell. I can't do anything about it."

Goku thought long and hard about the dilemma, and thought he had a pretty good idea of how he would be able to find a loophole.

"King Yemma, I'm not sure what to say- or what to do. Surely you understand I can't just allow my son to be condemned to this without any resistance. Isn't there any way that he could be pardoned, and given a second chance?"

"I'm afraid not, Goku. I receive millions of cases like his everyday, and I have been given strict orders to follow them all in the same manner."

"Given strict orders by whom, King Yemma? I thought that _you_ were the all-powerful decision-maker."

Goku hoped that by questioning the authority of King Yemma that he would be offended and try to show that he _was _the 'all-powerful decision-maker'. However, King Yemma knew from that statement that Goku was trying to trick him into bending the rules, and found the notion very insulting. He lost all sympathy for the two Saiyans, and his voice began to rumble with anger as he spoke, his volume increasing with every syllable.

"I have placed these rules myself, Goku, and I have sworn that I would never let personal experiences bias my judgment! If I did, I would have failed the quadrillions of lives that inhabit this mixed-up universe! I am truly sorry Goku," his tone of voice was not in agreement with that statement, "but this is how it has to be. If you'll excuse me, I have fallen millions of lives behind, and I don't have all of eternity to decide these fates!"

He snapped his fingers and dozens of muscular demon-guards about seven feet tall each came out of a nearby door and began to swarm around the still shaken Gohan. They stood him upright, and began to lead him away to an ominous looking door. As the young Saiyan finally realised what was happening, he began to somewhat feebly struggle from their grip. He managed to free his left arm, and reached outwards to his father for help. Goku attempted to reach for his son's outstretched hand, but he too was now being pulled away by dozens of the same guards. They both managed to grasp each other's hand, despite being hopelessly outnumbered.

Gohan felt the warmth his father's hands, and he was slipping away from his grasp once again. He felt helpless- his father was going to be taken away from him again, just as they had been reunited. It always happened- it seemed that he was not allowed to be happy, and live with his father like he so dearly wanted to. _Why is fate so cruel?!_

He was loosing his tenacity- and his patience.

Goku felt his son's soft, shaking hands, and he could feel the pulse through his palm. Not only was the pulse's presence shockingly strong, it was accelerating rapidly. Goku could feel the blood passing by at great speeds, and it was gruesomely warm- undoubtedly from anger. The mounting rage inside of his son was obvious just from his hand alone. It was enormous- not to mention growing with each passing second. Gohan was admirably withholding the energy, but for how long he could keep it up, Goku was unsure. It was unavoidable, though, that the energy would have to be released at some point. If it did so all at once, he was sure the results would be catastrophic.

"No! Stop it! Let him go!" Goku yelled suddenly.

King Yemma attempted to be civil, "Now Goku, this would all go by much quicker if you just cooperated-"

"No, you don't understand- you have to let him go! If you don't-"

King Yemma rolled his eyes, very much irritated, "Yeah, yeah, I know, there will be trouble. But I think that you aren't the one to be making threats, are you?"

Goku realised that King Yemma wasn't going to comply. He held tight onto Gohan's hand as the surprisingly strong guards still attempted to drag the outraged Saiyan away. Even so, it took every single one of them- thirty-two in total- to even budge him. He finally managed to tug free from their grip, and he immediately threw his arms around his father, attempting to be reunited again. But, as he did so, he dropped his guard for long enough to allow the guards to quickly snatch him and carry him away much quicker. For a few seconds, Gohan did nothing- perhaps out of shock, or maybe there was so much going on in his mind that it took a little while for it to comprehend what was happening. However, when it did dawn on him that he was being taken away from his father, and everyone else he cared about for all of eternity, the prediction Goku had only a few moments earlier came to pass.

Unlike the other times, there was an elongated, sickly moment in which everyone present felt the power before it erupted- even those who had no previous knowledge of how to sense power levels. The Saiyan's flaring gold aura returned, matched only by his blazing teal eyes- once again the indifferent stare removing all of the innocence from his face. King Yemma's jaw dropped and turned his head away from the blinding light, and the guards immediately scrambled away. Only Goku never took his eyes off of Gohan. He read his every movement, and suddenly saw his son turn to the fleeing guards with an unforgiving look in his eyes. He immediately understood what Gohan was about to do, and so ran over and grabbed his son's now outstretched left arm.

"Gohan, no! Don't do it!" He pleaded. Gohan glanced at his father, no longer completely infatuated with his presence, and having a strong sense of déjà vu for this situation. However, he quickly discarded the feeling and redirected his attention back to the guards without a word. Completely disregarding his father's hand on his arm, he began to charge an energy attack.

"No! Gohan! Listen to me!" Goku shouted once again. It was obvious to him now that Gohan wasn't going to stop, and he had to do something.

Gohan, however, was only aware of the fact that something had been done unjustly to him by the beings ahead, and that they had to be punished for it. He wanted to show him what it felt like for him for the last few months. They needed to feel pain- just like the pain he felt when his father was taken away from him. But before he could transfer this pain, another sensation came to him. His arm suddenly surged with unbearable agony- one so unbearable that it caused him to drop to one knee immediately after experiencing it. It only lasted a moment, and then there was no feeling in his arm at all. He attempted to move it- there was nothing there to move. The energy that he felt at the tips of his fingers had dissipated, and he could not move his energy to the arm anymore. He gawked to his left side to see his arm was there, but laying slack, limp and useless. There was no feeling whatsoever that even suggested he had an arm, only the lingering pain in his left shoulder blade- the next closest thing to where his arm had once been present. His will to remain strong failed him, as he let a pained, shocked and choked noise from his throat before biting his lip to remain silent. It was obvious now to him: his entire left arm had been dislocated. He attempted to stand, but the lack of a useable arm threw off his balance enough to make him fall backwards. He was caught by the tender arms of his father, and looked into his relieved but extremely apologetic face.

"Oh Gohan, I'm so sorry," he whispered. Gohan smiled weakly back at his father, as his rational sense took hold once again.

"D-don't be. I-I ne-eeded th-that. I was ab-bout to hurt more p-people, a-and I was g-going to do so e-even after you t-tried to help me," he managed to say through gritted teeth. He looked down, frowning, "I d-don't deserve to be helped, th-though. I have t-to accept th-the consequences for my ac-actions. I'm g-going to be left alone…

"…again."

"Not this time," Goku responded, before standing Gohan up and turning the young Saiyan so that he faced away from his father, "I think you've realised now what you need to do- am I right?"

Gohan gave a sharp nod of his head, looking off to the side and somewhat avoiding his father's gaze as he still clenched his arm that lay slack alongside him.

"Alright, now- relax everything," he instructed, and Gohan unquestioningly loosened his muscles and let go of his arm. Goku put both of his hands on Gohan's shoulders tenderly, but still his son winced as the shoulder blade made contact with the displaced joint, "Okay, good. Now-"

Gohan knew what to do- he did not even have to hear what his father had said. He once again delve deep inside his subconsciousness, past all of everything he was and wasn't aware of, and returned to the crevice where the delicate fibre of his being once rested. He got there, and dreadfully managed to remain there, doing nothing. He waited patiently, but his endurance was running thin as the minutes ticked slowly on.

Goku was well aware of what Gohan was ready to do, but he was not ready to do his part. Even though he had died, he did so by another's deeds that destroyed his physical self. His mental self, however, remained unscathed and intact for use in Other World. He no longer needed the delicate strand that he was well aware of being inside him- his liberty, independence; freedom. It was not a necessity for him, since he was dead and no longer had a truly living body to inhabit the world with. Gohan, on the other hand, needed only one such strand for his own, and he could return to the living world. It was not a simple task, though- the attachment that one feels to the thread was equal to that of a family member, or extremely close friend. The resolve that would be needed in order for the process to work was exponential. Nevertheless, Goku felt more love for his son than could even be measured- even more than he felt for his freedom. After a few minutes of hard concentration, he too burrowed deep inside himself- similar to the way Gohan did, but with more assuredness and calmness than the aroused young Saiyan. While he did so, he simultaneously sent half of his awareness to his son's respective part of consciousness.

Gohan shifted uncomfortably as he felt his father's presence join his own in the cherished, personal and private part of himself- uncorrupted and untouched by all other beings besides himself until now. It was a discomfited situation for him, but he trusted his father more than anyone else, and he would only allow him in such a secret and delicate part of himself.

Now came the difficult part- the transfer. Goku concentrated hard again, and- similar to the way that Gohan did- he grasped the subtle thread and felt the empowerment that came with it. He made sure that he was still in contact with Gohan, and then broke the bond of the thread. He mentally staggered back as he did so and- out of shock- released his grip of the thread.

The sickly moment was far too much to handle for Gohan, for he could feel every movement of his father. The last hope he had had been lost and there was now no way for his life to be recovered. He would be ultimately condemned to life in Hell, and he would never be able to see anyone he loved- living or dead- ever again. He would never be able to walk through the forest again; he would never be able to swim in the ocean off of Master Roshi's island; he would never feel the exhilaration of flying through the air at top speed; he would never feel rain fall on his head; he would never feel the sun slowly warm him on a cloudless day; he would never feel the wind ruffle his hair as he sat in front of his open window at his desk, studying intently; he would never smile again. The misery overcame him- he knew nothing but despair. He didn't even bother to return to the world of the conscious- he sunk to the depths of himself, and honestly didn't care if he ever returned. He was so far away from life, that he could not even hear his father until he intruded even further into Gohan's mind, which he really did not want to do.

_**Gohan!**_ He burst out telepathically and impatiently, _**Ready yourself!**_

Gohan heard this and had ample time to ready himself, but he did not know what for, so he was more than surprised when the fine thread was forced into his possession while he felt he felt the joint in his shoulder be horrendously and brutally forced back into place after a few agonizing moments of it trying to find the socket, and scraping along his shoulder as it did so. He was so surprised and tormented that he gave a short, startled shout, but he had the dedication to immediately position the elusive thread, which he handled like it would break if he even breathed. He managed to situate it in the only place that seemed appropriate- and it was confirmed to be correct when he felt it somewhat "snap" into place, accompanied with the surge of liberty, dignity, independence, and a sense of purpose. The Halo above his head vanished, fading from existence to signify that Gohan was, without a doubt, alive again. He felt so energized, that he- completely oblivious about the tenderness of his arm- jumped to his feet, and immediately hugged his father. However, when he did so, he hit him with such a force to cause him to be knocked to the floor. Gohan jumped back, and helped him up with a flurry of apologies.

"Oops! I'm sorry! I didn't realise- I guess I just came at you, huh? Next time I should give you some warning, shouldn't I?" He chuckled. His personality portrayed him as the light, fun-loving and innocent boy he really was. Goku, on the other hand, was now less frivolous and light-hearted than he used to be.

"Yes… yes… that's alright… it's no problem at all…" he droned, while rubbing his eye. Gohan noticed this right away, and became quite worried.

"Dad… are you alright?

Somewhere inside him, Goku knew he was different as well. He took this realization, though, as a sign that it was only temporary.

"Yes, I am just a little… tired. Probably after a while, I'll feel better. No, I am sure of it," he corrected, while ruffling Gohan's hair playfully, "Because how could I not, when I know that you're happy and having the time of your life? I'm going to be too, as soon as I find King Kai again."

Gohan smiled earnestly for the first time in almost a year.

"Now, I think it is about time that you get back, hmm?" Goku questioned, turning to the dumbstruck King Yemma, "As long as that is alright with you, of course."

King Yemma knew with every fibre of his being that he would never live down allowing this to pass by. On the other hand, he knew that the consequences of not- shown by the shocking display from the infuriated Gohan- outweighed the small amount of humiliation he would have to endure.

"Okay Goku, you win. I'll let this go just this one time. If it ever happens again, I won't be able to do any favours, got it? I have my standards, too."

"Alright! Thanks King Yemma! It won't happen again, I promise! You won't be seeing from me anymore." His lively spirit was already returning. King Yemma- even though he doubted that what Goku said was true- turned to Gohan afterwards.

"I'm going to be truthful, kid: if you come before me next time in the same matter, I am going to really bring down the hammer, and sentence you to something even worse than Hell- you'll have to be sent to _fønïrth_ for eternity. That place makes even Hell seem like Heaven."

The King chuckled at his own joke, leaving Gohan quite bemused. The Saiyan couldn't help but connect that word with the lifeless abyss of a world he had to suffer through. King Yemma did not wait for a response, and returned to his proper place only to find billions of lives waiting impatiently to be judged, with several of the less pleasant ones thought that they could pass judgment on themselves. King Yemma sighed, and got down to work.

"Okay then, Gohan, are you ready?" Goku asked, devoid of any sadness in his voice. Gohan was not quite sure what was going to happen when he did go back- and he did not want to leave his father so soon after being reunited with him. He admitted the first to his father in hope that he would be able to comfort his worries- not the second, for his father had already told him not to miss him, and that was all he would say again.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure what is going to happen either," he confessed somewhat embarrassingly, "But hey! That's half the fun, right? Not knowing what's going to happen, but still going through with it- you should be excited!"

Gohan was still disappointed at the thought of leaving his father, but the notion of such an unknown still did appeal to him, and he knew that his father was right and that he should try to enjoy life: focus on all of the good things he had in life, and not on the bad.

"I guess you're right," he said finally, and decisively added, "Yes, I'm ready now. I want to return to Earth."

Goku smiled proudly at the insight of his son, and placed his index and middle finger to his forehead. He concentrated hard for a few moments, and then motioned for Gohan to come closer. Goku placed his arm around him, in a side-embrace, much to the delight of Gohan. Then, in a blur of dissipating lines, they vanished.

* * *

Yes! I invented a word with the what-cha-ma-callit, O-with-a-line-through-it and I-with-a-sideways-colon-on-top. Ha ha ha. I know that the 'ï' is called an umlaut mark (I think), but all I can find that the 'ø' is called is slash. Is that correct? Anyways, I just thought the place would need a name, so voilà! Don't think too much of it, I doubt the word will be important.

One thing I noticed while proofing this section was a lot of s-stut-tering w-words. Does it distract from the speech, or make it more interesting? Tell me what you guys think in a review. I won't know what you think unless you tell me.

Until next time, warriors!!!


	10. Chapter Ten: Of Awakening and Awareness

I apologize for the late update from the last chapter. I hope you didn't think that we were going to end there- we still have a way to go! A person known only as 'Person' seemed to believe that that was the end of the story. I thank them for their review (and everyone else who is reviewing. you guys are AWESOME!) but we're not done yet! I guess if you wanted to, you could leave off there, but you're missing nearly two-thirds of the story-!

Let's go on now then. Here it is: the long awaited...

Chapter Ten

* * *

Gohan felt the comfort of his father's presence for only a moment when he returned to the world of the living- a gentle, sunray like warmth that still lingered on his hands but sadly faded from existence after a few short moments.

Gohan thought that he would be lying outside, in the middle of the orchard where he drew his last breath. However, when he awoke, he found himself lying on his back, facing a large slab of rock. He saw the stone blocks encasing his entire body, cut to form an elaborately engraved box. When he saw the small fissures of light through cracks at the seams and corners of the box, he suddenly realised that it wasn't a box at all; it was a sarcophagus. The thought shocked him, for he had many times heard dreadful tales about people being buried alive and dieing in a premature grave. Lucky for him, the stone tablets were no problem for him to move, and he carefully opened the lid by sliding it, making sure not to let it fall and shatter. He sat up, hopped out of the coffin- which was resting on a pedestal, and made him morbidly think of his dead body on display- and partially closed the cover behind him.

When he looked at the room, he was astonished at the sight of it. The room itself wasn't very large- no more than fifteen feet along each side- but the room was comprised entirely of precisely cut blocks of stone. The only visible exits were a stairway that lead downwards and square holes on the wall for windows. He walked up to one such widow, looked down, and saw that he was over 300 feet off the ground.

He was not afraid of heights- in fact, he loved being so high off the ground when he was flying because of the liberating feeling it gave him- but still the height of the building, which was now clearly a tower, still amazed him. He knew that a tower of this size could be visible from miles away- such as Kami's Lookout did- but he had never seen it before. When he looked at where the tower was, he immediately recognised it as the site of where the Cell Games arena, inaccurately named "Hercule Memorial", and pitiful cemetery once stood. However, the wheat stalks that once stood there were gone, and replaced by fields and fields of chrysanthemums, rhododendrons, lilies, and gladiolus of every colour imaginable- but mainly white gladiolus, which were his favourite type of flower. Only two people knew that though- Piccolo, and his father. He would have flown out the window to get a better look at the sight, but his curiosity of what the rest of the tower held was too great to ignore.

He returned and descended down the stairs, which were also made of stone. The first story below the one that he was in contained all of his training equipment. It had his sparring outfits- not only the Piccolo-styled one, but also the one similar to his father's, and the Saiyan armour he wore in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, which was falling apart at the seams but nevertheless folded into a neat pile, as the rest were. There were his capes, his pants, his shirts, his wristbands… everything that he had ever worn or was going to be worn by him for training or fighting purposes was here, folded neatly on display-like tables. There were three entire outfits hung on the wall so that it showed how it looked when worn. Gohan looked around for a while, and eventually even found his Chinese-style yellow shirt he wore when he first met Piccolo, folded in a remote corner and, upon further inspection, stained by a small teardrop.

He descended to the second floor below, and saw a similar layout as the previous one, only instead of being Gohan's outfits, there were numerous things that Gohan had made- pictures he drew when he was small, math equations, letters, stories, notes, ideas… anything that Gohan had made, or accomplished was here, in a collage that encompassed the entire room. He felt slightly uncomfortable with this- personal thoughts, notes, and such were available for all to see.

He continued down the flight of stairs, and saw that every room was dedicated to something related even remotely to him at all. There were rooms of pictures of him, a room of his favourite foods, a room of his favourite places, a room of his favourite books, a room of his favourite music, a room laid out like his own bedroom, and a room of his favourite animals- including a scale no doubt from Icarus. There was a room filled with his normal clothes; a room of his favourite plants; a room of his favourite activities, with photos of him doing them; a room of his possessions too- in which he saw a few things that he pitifully hoped weren't noticed. There was a room of things he liked the smell of; a room of things he liked to look at; a room of things he liked the feel of a room of all of the technology he owned; and a room that contained all of the money he was saving, which was quite a sum, due to his mother's pressing demand for university.

There were also several very odd rooms, such as one dark room that contained everything he didn't like- and by counting the number of windows he was from the ground, he amusingly found that it was on the thirteenth floor. He never was very superstitious, but many of his friends were. There was one room that simply contained an air-locked pedestal, which held a lock of silky, ebony hair- and Gohan felt to his head to find a blunt cut at the back, but not an extremely noticeable one. Even odder was just a room that was empty- the very confused and embarrassed Gohan thought humorously to himself that this room was filled with the air that he liked.

There were some very intimate rooms, though, that he took very seriously. One room contained descriptions of every person he ever fought- Raditz, Nappa, Vegeta, The Ginyu Force, Frieza, The Spice Boys, Garlic Junior, and even a long account of the battle with Cell where all of his friends and allies contributed.

There was another room which inscribed across the walls was a heartfelt piece of writing that described how wonderful of a person Gohan was, and each was by one of his best friends. Gohan could only read partially through Piccolo's, because it caused so much guilt for him as it was obviously written with the thought that Gohan was dead.

On the level below that, there was a room that showed all of the friends Gohan had ever met. Not only were the lifelong friends shown, though, there were lots of faces that he had only met once, like the Orphan Children, Lime and her grandfather, even the bakers that he had met just recently. He had numerous memories- both happy and sad- come flooding back to him, so he left for the next room.

That room did not help much, though, for it was only of his family members- his father, himself, and his mother. One picture in particular caught his attention- a tear-stricken Chi-chi was crying on the shoulder of Bulma. Even though that made Gohan feel enough guilt as it was, his eyes fell to the stomach of his mother- it was rounded and obtruding from its usual spot, clearly stating that she was pregnant. Gohanstood in shock as he realized it, though he did not know how he missed this until now- _how far did I isolate myself from the world so that I would miss my own mother's pregnancy? _He tossed that thought aside quickly, it being replaced with another thought: he was going to be an older brother. Not only that, but there was going to be another child of Goku. _The child wouldn't ever get to meet their father, _Gohan realised with much guilt and shame, _But I… I will tell them all about him and his accomplishments. _

_I hope you will find out about this somehow, Father._

On another level, there was a room that was dedicated entirely to the Saiyan side of Gohan- mainly the Super Saiyan side. It had two accounts of him in such a state- one elaborate, and obviously done by Piccolo, and the other crude, short, and somewhat criticising. There was even a meticulously and marvellously hand-drawn portrait of him- by one of his friends, but he was not sure who possessed such artistic talent. In the drawing, he was standing tall in the Piccolo-esque outfit with an outstretched arm, surrounded by the cascading blue sparks and golden aura, and teal eyes glaring sideways out of a half-turned head. The look that he gave himself sent a cold shockwave down his back, and he immediately turned away.

After all of the rooms, both bizarre and respectful, he arrived on the floor above the ground floor. It was what appeared to be a place of worship- that much was obvious by the candles, scrupulously arranged objects and mats for kneeling. However, it was like no cathedral Gohan had ever seen- it was like it was from another planet. An odd feeling of recognition bothered him, and it took a few moments to realise that this was very similar to the style of buildings on Namek, which he visited so long ago. This sanctuary was made by Piccolo, and so Gohan did not dwell there long, out of respect for Piccolo's religion and privacy.

The ground floor level was the only thing that was not truly related to Gohan- it was the pitiful cemetery that used to monument the Cell Games tragedy. The names of the fallen were still clearly written on the stone tablets, still lacking any mention of Goku.

Gohan sighed sadly, and walked outside, glad to be out of the bizarre tower. As he stepped outside, he saw once again the endless fields of flowers- and in the middle of one he saw a gigantic statue- though not as ridiculously large as Hercule's was. The sight of the likeness made his heart soar with pride and satisfaction- the statue depicted Goku standing by the side of his son, tousling his hair as he often did. They were side by side, therefore equals, but still obviously father and son. The stone figures perfectly portrayed the pair- Goku as the kind, fun-loving and carefree person, and Gohan as the thoughtful, unselfish, attentive, and gentle soul who enjoyed every waking moment he had in life. The monument was so exactly detailed- even more than the sketch of Gohan inside the tower- that you could see the frozen breeze that rippled their outfits during the moment that this represented, and their eyes seemed to shine with life. Below it, written in striking calligraphy, was the following:

"_Quidvis Recte Factum Quamvis Humile Praeclarum. Qualis Pater Talis Filius. Dum Spiro, Spero. Fama Semper Vita. Requiescat In Pace._"

The little Latin that Gohan knew translated the phrases into:

"Whatever is rightly done- however humble- is noble. As is the father, so is the son. As long as there is breath, there is hope. May their fame last forever. Rest in peace."

After a few minutes of appreciation of the monument- as well as enjoying the fresh air and breeze that he so enjoyed being in- Gohan took off for the skies, scanning every inch of the Earth for some power level that he recognised. After finally finding most of them gathered at one place- his own house- he flew swiftly and quietly, knowing that the matter at hand was a delicate one.

* * *

Hmmm... so, kind of a random chapter, no? I am a little bit uncertain about this one as well, especially since it comes after that last one, but I still love the thought about what would happen if our courageous were presented with this horrific event of their youngest member's death.

I took a little bit of artistic liberty on two parts here- I gave Gohan some favourite flowers, because I thought there needed to be a symbol for his tranquility, and love of peace. If that was a little too... weird or something, tell me in a review. By the way, does anyone know the proper plural of gladiolus? I tried 'gladioluses', but it was deemed incorrect...

The other thing is that I slightly altered the gestation period for Chi-chi. I can back this up though, by saying that Saiyans could be pregnant for longer than humans, and that this is reflected in a hybrid's birth. Are you guys alright with this, or a little upset? Comment and tell me.

Next chapter is a longer one, so be sure to stick around for it! We haven't solved all of our problems yet and, in the words of MK08, I'm about to throw another curve ball or two. I'll keep you waiting with that fact...

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	11. Chapter Eleven: Of Reunion and Departure

I'm far too lenient with you guys. Only two reviews, and I come crawling back to give you another chapter? Ah well, I've had so many great reviews that you guys can slack once in a while... but don't count on such kindness with this update. You should have high expectations for my writing, so I expect many reviews to help me reach those expectations.

Alrighty. Enough lecturing from me, here we go.

Chapter Eleven

* * *

When Gohan arrived, which only took a few minutes, he landed far enough away so that he could not been seen from his house, but close enough that he could see what was going on. He saw no one outside, so he crept closer to a window that looked in on the kitchen. He felt all too odd, snooping around his own house, and spying on his own friends, but he knew that he needed to be noticed only at the right time; at the wrong time, the results could be catastrophic.

He looked through the window, and saw his mother washing a lone person's worth of dishes, eyes obviously on the verge of tears. She began to lift one dish from the sink, but her hand was shaking so much that the dish fell from her grasp and smashed to the floor, shattering completely. She did not motion to pick it up, but turned around and began to sob into her hands. Behind her, Gohan could now see their table, neatly set and organized for two- one set of dishes showing residue from eaten food, the other untouched and unused. His heart broke at the sight of this; his mother was still setting the table for two, thinking by some miracle that her son was alive, when she truly knew that he was dead and gone forever. It must be so difficult for her- first losing her husband, and then her son only a short while after. Gohan felt awful. He just wanted to rush in and comfort her- tell her that he was alive, and that he was so sorry for what he had done. However, Bulma soon joined her, supporting and condoling her.

"Yes... it's alright to cry... just let it go... no shame here... we all understand what it is like... shh..." She cooed.

Chi-chi was somewhat comforted by this, and managed to return to the other side of the room, where she and Bulma were joined by Tien, Yamcha, Chiaotzu, and Krillin. She managed to suppress a few sobs as she tenderly stroked her rounded stomach. They all met and, very solemnly and somewhat awkwardly, began to say goodbye to each other, every one talking about "getting back to their normal lives" in some way or other, suggesting that for the last while they hasn't been living their lives normally. Gohan had no idea that he had made such an impact on their lives when he left them.

He was starting now to think about how he would return to them- would it be best if they heard him before they saw him, or vice versa? Would it be better to draw attention to himself, or to allow them to stumble upon him? Would it be better to wait, so that they would have accepted of his death, and therefore wasn't going to be traumatized after such a big shock, or would it be better to not wait, for they would not believe that he was alive? The thoughts troubled him and he thought of so many ways that he could make things worse, that he even begun to think that it would be better that they didn't find him. But, as soon as that thought occurred to him, something made him remember his father, and all he had done for him, and the promises he made to him. He would tell them- he just was going to wait until a better opportunity arose.

Suddenly, a figure burst into the house and immediately broke the awkward silence that enveloped the scene.

"He's gone- he's not here!" Piccolo burst out, without specifying whom he was referring to, although it was obvious to all present. If it was possible, Gohan's heart sank even deeper into his chest. He wanted with all of his will to go out and greet Piccolo, to ask him to forgive him for everything, and to tell him about what happened, but he kept quiet, and shifted uncomfortably in his hiding spot.

"We all know that Piccolo- I'm sorry that you are taking this so hard-" Krillin began, before being interrupted by Piccolo.

"No- his body's gone! It was moved from its spot- and someone's been through the tower- they rummaged through everything, and touched everything," he growled, very much annoyed at the thought of someone disturbing the resting place of his admirable young pupil. The others had similar looks on their faces, as they stood and shook aggravated heads and clenched fists threateningly at the unknown offender.

"Why those little-" Yamcha started, but was too infuriated to finish.

"Who could be so heartless?" Tien questioned aloud.

Piccolo did not answer, for he- and everyone else- could not think of someone who would dare to do something so callous. Chiaotzu suddenly spoke up, with a frightened edge on his voice.

"What… what do you they're going to do with him?" He timidly posed.

Everyone's heads shot up, as they each thought of numerous things that the perpetrator would do with the body, and each one was more sickening than the last. Chi-chi once again began to cry, supported again by Bulma. Everyone was becoming more and more revolted, when an unwelcome guest broke the stillness.

"Humph. What do we care? He's dead- the body isn't that important. Whoever it is can have it for all I care. I don't even know why you bothered making that idiotic monument."

Piccolo turned around and shot Vegeta a glare that matched the one that Gohan had given him before, and was about to do more than that when he heard a hushed noise of shock with his highly sensitive Namekian ears- even more acute than that of a Saiyan's hearing.

Gohan immediately clasped his hand over his mouth, but the action was done. He was so shocked at the fact that Vegeta was alive that he could help but make a sound- his father _had_ saved him!

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Piccolo announced loudly. Now everyone knew that someone was there. Gohan panicked- he did not want to be seen yet, at such a fragile moment- and hastily decided that he should leave.

_They don't know it's me yet-_

But as he took off, his aura was visible out of the window, and golden due to the unknown-to-him Super Saiyan form he was in. Not only that, but he released some of his energy and all those who possessed the power to read energy signals immediately recognised it. Half a dozen shouts came forth as they did, but Gohan had already left.

He immediately acknowledged his mistake, swooped to the ground, and began to run away from the six pursuers undoubtedly following him.

He ran for a nearby forest, found one particularly dense tree, and began to hurriedly scramble up it. He waited there, and soon enough, one of the followers began to head his way. It was Tien, and as he passed by Gohan held his breath, not wanting to make any unwanted noise. The martial artist paused under the tree, and for one uneasy moment Gohan thought that he had been found. However, Chiaotzu simply came up to him alongside Yamcha.

"Have you seen any sign of where he went?" Tien asked.

"No," Yamcha replied, then paused for a moment before adding, "Do… do you really think it's him? I mean, how could it be- he's dead."

"I'm not sure," Tien answered, "But I don't know anyone else with that energy signal. Even Piccolo thought it was him- and he knows him better than any of us."

Yamcha nodded, but Chiaotzu was not satisfied.

"How could he be back to life? Piccolo said that even Shenron couldn't bring him back, because he-" Chiaotzu paused for a word that didn't sound dishonourable, but failed to find one, "Because he died the way he did. If Shenron couldn't bring him back, what could?"

Neither of them could answer that, so they went back to searching. Unknown to Gohan, Tien mentally noted to Chiaotzu to return to this spot after they had searched for a while longer. Tien and Yamcha headed one way, and Chiaotzu another.

Gohan told himself that if he waited until nightfall, he could find someone by themselves- preferably his mother or Piccolo- and reveal his existence like that. He really did not want a large mob of people finding out at once and making a big scene out of it- bombarding him with questions, and too many ears to understand the explanation the first time.

Gohan began to think while he hid. He was so grateful for the second chance he'd been given- the thought of his friends being so distraught pained him. He felt so significant, too- they were even going to find the Dragon Balls to try and wish him back! This made him feel miserable as well, though, for he felt so shamed and contrite at the notion that his friends went to so much trouble over him. They built the monument, found all of his things, arranged them, and made the statue, drawing and accounts- he now realised that Vegeta did the crude account of himself, though probably not by choice.

Tien, Chiaotzu and Yamcha returned after a few minutes of searching, much to the shock of Gohan, who cursed himself for not moving when he had the chance. He was once again stuck, unable to move from his spot until they decided to leave, which could be quite a long time.

"…if it is him, why do you think he ran away?" Chiaotzu posed some time later, following in the pattern of referring to Gohan as either "he", "him", or a similar pronoun, and avoiding his name like some sort of taboo.

"Maybe someone's following him," Yamcha suggested, "Someone that he is running away from."

"Out of what?" asked Tien, "Fear?"

"No."

The three swung around to see Piccolo looking down on them, not happy in the slightest of their chatter. They immediately knew that he wanted them to continue searching, so they darted away before he could even say more.

"Gohan would never run out of fear," he said more to himself than the long-gone warriors, "…he's progressed beyond that. I know it."

A half-stifled noise came from above, very audible to Piccolo.

"Who's-"

Piccolo looked up and his eyes met Gohan's. The Namekian's face took on an expression of such joy that it was almost too much to physically handle.

Unfortunately, Vegeta was only a few feet away, but on the other side of the tree, so when he heard the noise, he fired a full-power blast at the unprepared, un-ascended Saiyan out of reflex.

Had Gohan been in the powerful, but merciless ascended Saiyan state, he would have easily been able to dodge, block, or reflect the blast. However, he was too enveloped in the thought of being reunited with Piccolo to even see the blast coming until the last moment, when it was too late. It made contact with his tender left side, enveloping that half of his head and torso and his left arm and leg. It hit him with enough force as to knock him clean off the tree, to the unforgiving ground below. This stunned him to such an extent that he was completely dumbstruck, and unable to even perform the simple action of preventing himself from falling. A sickly leap of his stomach came forth as he fell over twenty feet from the tree, staring up at the pale blue sky.

He winced in anticipation of the collision, but instead of hitting the firm, cold ground, he was caught by the careful arms of Piccolo. He looked up into the black, shimmering eyes, and did not say a word- perhaps out of fear of ruining the special moment. The stillness only lasted a second though, for he then threw his arms over Piccolo's head, enclosing him in a warm, unforgettable embrace. He would have stayed like that for some time had he not jolted back as the pain of Vegeta's blast caught up with him and made his hastily mended shoulder dislocate again.

The sudden jolt came as enough of a surprise as to knock Piccolo off of his feet in an attempt to keep his hold of the half-Saiyan. Gohan took a sharp, pain-filled gulp of air as he felt the familiar numbness encompass his left side again. From the previous time, he knew better than to try and stand and so stayed where he was, defenceless in Piccolo's arms. They looked at one another, and only Piccolo seemed to remember the similarity that this scene had to another- one that he'd be all too happy to forget. He said nothing, though, and they both remained silent.

Unlike most silences, this was not an awkward one. Oddly enough, it seemed to be quite the opposite of silence, since there was never any _true _silence- except in situations such as the one in the black chasm-like abyss, where it is impossible to physically hear- for the subtle, white noise was capable of being heard now that the rest of the world was quiet, and it was comparable to that of music. The gentle rustle of the overhead leaves to the cool, early-autumn wind was the harmony to a melody of chance noises- a bird chirp here, an acorn drop there- and during the odd moment were no such sound could be heard, the soft rumble of a nearby stream took charge, as the bass line but too quiet to be heard at any other time. The most astounding of the noises, though, was one that was almost silent, and was so hushed that it was possible that it did not exist at all. It was a quiet, soft, gentle hum, one with a very warm, bright sound, but quiet nonetheless. The brightness, warmth, and general comfort that were brought by this sound made it almost undeniably the product of the sun. However, this was not completely verifiable, as the noise was almost impossible to hear, and only when there was an odd moment when the animals were silenced, the wind calmed, and the river was hushed, that this hum could be heard. It was such an uplifting sound when it was able to be heard- so much that even the pain-stricken Gohan couldn't help but sigh with satisfaction when he was able to focus enough to hear it. When it could be heard, it only lasted a second before a noise came and overpowered it. It was like the conductor of the music: unnoticed until there was silence, and it directed how the sounds should resume. The result of such a combination of ambient, simple noises was beautiful and surprisingly breathtaking.

Gohan was able to hear all of this, and was happy with the simplicity and lack of worries. He wouldn't have minded one bit if he stayed there, carefree and relaxed, in the arms of Piccolo for the rest of his days. Fate, however, seemed determined to not allow him to live such a life.

"SNAP OUT OF IT, BOY!" Vegeta's aggravated voice roared, shattering the wondrous music of nature, and making Gohan become painfully aware that his wounds had not healed during the few moments of tranquility. He looked up at Vegeta's scowling expression, who quickly turned away so that his face could no longer be seen. Unknown to them, though, was that he did so because he did not want to show the look of relief on his face that Gohan was alive.

…_It would be just my luck for both Kakarot __**and**__ his son to die... twice..._

Gohan looked around, and somewhat disappointedly saw that not only was Vegeta there, but Tien, Chiaotzu, Yamcha and Krillin as well. Their faces were each filled with the same questioning look of disbelief and happiness, as they stared uncomfortably down at him. He sighed, and braced himself for the onslaught of questions, but then winced as his dislocated shoulder screamed in protest of being ignored. He gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"I-if you guys wouldn't mind," he managed to whisper, the pain causing him to speak with a cracked voice, "I-I think I need… some rest… j-just a little."

He looked for a few seconds at the warriors gazing down at him, and cocked his head to one side as if he was seeking their approval. He shivered for a few moments, attempting to keep himself awake while waiting for a reply, but none came. Even though he valiantly tried, he found the warmth of Piccolo's arms all too comforting, and his exhausted and devastatingly injured body couldn't help but fall into a state of unconsciousness yet again. Unconscious though he was, he appeared to be in a somewhat sleeping state, as he managed to turn to one side and curl up next to Piccolo, his body rising and falling with his natural, undisturbed breath, and oblivious everything going on in the disturbed, outside world.

* * *

Steeeeeeeeeeeeeee-rike One! Curveball pitched at the bottom of the eleventh inning. Yay.

Well, that was... alright? Argh... maybe not... I have a hard time judging my own work. It's too hard to like it, since it is so easy to find the bad parts when I was the one who wrote it... That's why you guys are the best! You are able to honestly, unbiasedly tell me what is good and what is completely horrendous.

I'll have you know that I am very well trying to resist the temptation to rant about how awesome the Olympics are. I realize that an ill-placed comment can have an entire country of people at my throat, so I will simply say that I love the competition and seeing where every country excels and seeing hard-working, deserving people win a medal, especially during that truly awe-inspiring moment when you can stand and face your country, watching your flag rise slowly to the tune of your national anthem playing for one person, that makes you proud to be Canadian. Or Australian. Or American. Or German. Or Korean. Or Chinese. Or Japanese. Or British. Or... anything! Patriotism at its best. I will be eagerly watching the final, gold-medal hockey game between us (the Canucks) and our brethren to the South (United States of America). Whatever the result, we know that it was deserved...

Alright. I'll stop being so politically correct. Go Canada. Go US. Go World. I absolutely love the Olympics. Maybe I should write a little one-shot about the DBZ charactes at the Olympics... Opinions?

Okay. Shut. Up. OkamiGohan.

Until next time, warriors!!!!


	12. Chapter Twelve: Slumber

Was that a long time without updating? Oops. I might need to be more prompt, or else I might lose all of you awesome readers and reviewers! I hope you guys enjoyed the Olympics if you watched them, and congratulations to all of our wonderful athletes.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Canada, I am going to post the next long overdue chapter. Enjoy this as well!

Chapter Twelve

* * *

Vegeta was long gone. Now that he knew that Gohan was alive and well, he had no further business with the others present. He was all too happy to leave. The other warriors, however, stayed where they stood and gaped at the odd sight below them. None of them spoke for a while, as their brains attempted to piece together what had just happened.

Piccolo was far to elated at the thought of Gohan being alive to even care about the awkward and embarrassing position he was currently in, courtesy of the aforementioned Saiyan. His mind was relieved now of all of the worries it was carrying since he had seen Gohan.

They all stood there for a while, until Tien decided to break the silence with the thought that they all were thinking.

"…he's so innocent. Did he really…?" He began, and the question was implied in his tone. Was this guiltless, childlike, worry-free Saiyan the same distressed, solemn, desperate boy Piccolo saw take his own life? They were all confused, as they had seen the young Saiyan go through so many personality changes recently that they were unsure of what was normal and what was out of character for him anymore. Everyone nodded slowly in answer, despite the fact that it was more of a rhetorical question.

"Do you want us to take him back to Chi-chi?" Krillin asked Piccolo a few minutes later, after some more silent thinking by everyone. Piccolo took a moment to answer.

"No, I don't think so. He said that he wanted some rest, and I doubt that _that_ woman would let him get any sleep for weeks after she gets a hold of him," he said, the emphasis he put on _that woman _clearly stating his dislike for Chi-chi, "We should just let him be."

The way Piccolo said _**we**__ should _also made it obvious to all that he did not like how they were all hovering above the troubled young Saiyan very intrusively. Whether or not he showed it, Gohan had enough problems at is it was without people attempting to pry answers from him. Piccolo was very protective when it came to matters like this- it was a well-known fact that he was like a second father to him, though that notion was never uttered aloud. They all understood what Piccolo said, and left wordlessly, finally leaving him to sleep in peace.

Piccolo remained where he was- half because if he moved, he would disturb Gohan from his long-needed sleep, and half because he did not dare leave him alone after all he'd been through. As he waited for him to awake, he was troubled by the fact that even though the young Saiyan was _…unconscious? Asleep? _At any rate, even though he was not awake, he remained in his Super Saiyan form. In fact, when he thought about it, the last time Piccolo saw Gohan power down from a Super Saiyan form was when he committed suicide- a chilling memory and thought, as maybe he was unable or unwilling to do so anymore.

Piccolo waited patiently for Gohan to awake. While he watched the sleeping, scarred Saiyan, he couldn't help but let a few emotional tears loose in the solitary. The unworried, unresponsive face accompanied with the self-inflicted wounds was all too similar to the state his lifeless body was in on that moonless night. Piccolo regained his sensibility after a short while, and he couldn't help but think the obvious question.

_How is he here now?_

However, what he couldn't do was think of a reasonable answer. He waited even more, and a few hours later he still had not awakened. At that time, however, there was something that broke the silence.

"WHERE IS HE?! LET ME GO! I WANT TO SEE MY BABY! ARGH!" Chi-chi's voice came from one side of the forest.

Piccolo turned to look over his shoulder, and saw her marching through the brush, each foot pounding the ground with effort, as every of the warriors that left earlier were clung to her back in a futile attempt to stop her from moving.

"GET! OFF! NOW!" She screamed, shaking the entire forest with her high-pitched voice. When the warriors made no implication that they were going to move, she grabbed each of them by the collar of their shirts and, one by one, began to throw them off in separate directions, each of them landing on the ground with enough force to create a small crater. If you weren't watching the sight, the shaking of the earth could be mistaken for the aftershock of an earthquake. Surprisingly enough, Gohan remained asleep throughout this thunderous display.

After each of the warriors were implanted in the ground, Chi-chi sprinted over to where Piccolo was sitting and was about to give him a full-board tackle when she saw her son. She completely ignored the Namekian, and came to side of her seemingly sleeping child. She stared in awe, mouth agape, and gently shook his shoulder.

"Gohan…! Baby, wake up! Mommy's here- everything is going to be alright," She said in an embarrassingly loud voice. Piccolo couldn't help but scoff at the way Chi-chi thought of Gohan as an infant. She took no notice of this, and began to shake her son a little more fiercely when he didn't awake, "C'mon now, you can sleep when you get home- just wake up!"

It then became obvious that Gohan wasn't going to wake up any time soon. She came back from her dream world where only her son existed, and took out her distress on the first person that she saw: the unlucky Piccolo.

"You! You did this, didn't you?! What did you do to him?! You monster! You took him away from me again- just after I got him back! You selfish, greedy thing! You- you- gah!" She was exasperated and was now feebly punching at Piccolo in between sobs. She eventually broke down completely, fell to her knees and buried her face into her palms. Krillin came up to her- as he and the other warriors had removed themselves from the ground- and offered his hand with a kind smile.

"Come now, Chi-chi, let's just leave him for now. I think he needs the rest."

Chi-chi removed her face from he hands and slowly looked at Krillin, his outstretched hand, and then his face again.

"You think he needs some rest, do you? Hmm? Well, that's _your_ opinion. And you are what- his friend? I am his _mother_, and I think that _I_ know what's best for him! And you know what? _I_ think that he needs to get home, out of this treacherous forest!"

Krillin was already retracting his hand, and backing slowly away from Chi-chi.

_...The only thing treacherous about this forest is you, Chi**-**chi..._

"He needs to get out of this wind before he catches a chill- he could get pneumonia! And he could get sick from lying in the dirt like that- get a virus or something! I'm pulling out all the stops this time, you hear me?! I'm not going to let anything happen to my Gohan again!"

Krillin was now running away from Chi-chi, who chased him with an extended fist shaking angrily at him. Krillin ran in circles for a while, then boldly decided that he was now in charge of keeping Chi-chi occupied, and so ran in a straight line out of the forest, Chi-chi still in hot pursuit and completely forgetting her promise to protect her son.

The other warriors checked up with Piccolo. They asked if Gohan had awoken yet, if Piccolo needed anything, and even volunteered to take his place. Each of these questions received the same reply.

"No," and nothing more.

They nodded with satisfaction, and then took their leave. Piccolo was possibly the most patient being to ever exist, for he did not move from that spot until Gohan awoke. Once every few hours, Chi-chi would return, accompanied by the warriors, but each time the scene played out in a similar matter: Chi-chi would fruitlessly try to awaken Gohan, give Piccolo the blame, break down into tears, and Krillin would try to comfort her only to have his words taken offensively and he would be chased away, followed soon by the others after they got the report from Piccolo, which always came up yielding no changes.

He waited, pondering about several matters. At first, they were all concerning the young Saiyan, but after the first two days, he soon found himself thinking of other things, as he had somewhat set his mind at ease for all of the matters relating to Gohan.

On the fifth day, Piccolo called for Dende to come and see to Gohan's wounds. When the young Namekian arrived, he nearly exploded with excitement when he saw the young Saiyan. He explained to Piccolo how he was not doing "a good job as Guardian of the Earth" after he heard about Gohan's suicide. He healed the wounds promptly, but Piccolo noticed that the wound on his forehead and the self-inflicted wounds still hadn't healed. He asked Dende why this was- although he left out the part that those particular wounds were self-inflicted- but the inexperienced little Guardian did not know why they would not heal, nor did he have a guess. His other wounds, however- including his dislocated shoulder- vanished from existence. Dende then left, his "pressing duties as the Guardian of Earth" not allowing him to stay long, but not before he made Piccolo promise to tell Gohan to go see him when he awoke.

After the ninth day, Chi-chi's eruptive visits stopped for no particular reason. One of the warriors, however, still came by to check on Piccolo. The first time one came after Chi-chi's disappearance, the warrior- which was Yamcha- informed Piccolo that Chi-chi had pulled a muscle while chasing Krillin the last time, and that she was stuck in her house until it healed, because they were now able to subdue her and prevent her from moving.

It wasn't until the eleventh day that Gohan finally awoke.

* * *

Hmm... I want to call this a chapter without Gohan, but technically he _was_ there... just not awake. But, look on the bright side! I actually put Chi-chi in there! If that's how you spell her name... that's how I do, at least.

I have some thoughts of Piccolo and Krillin in there, in italics as well. I'm sorry if they are confusing... in my original document, I had each character a separate font for their trains of thought, but that obviously is not going to apply here. I was considering using something like a different symbol for quotation marks, such as _^Speech goes here^ _and _*Speech goes here* _and _+Speech goes here+_ but it didn't seem right. Any opinions on this?

Next chapter is extremely short. I mean Krillin's hair length short. Well, almost. But I don't want to be mean and leave you with just a short chapter, so I'll update soon. But I will tell you this much- even though it is short, there is going to be a major plot event. Yep, you guessed it! CURVE BALL!

Oh yeah, I've decided that I will write a DBZ Olympic story. I have a poll going on at my profile for which characters you want to see in it. I want to at least let you help choose in that manner. Check it out!

Until next time, warriors!!!


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Renaissance

Bah. This chapter's too short. Just like my author's notes. And my sentences. You have my sincerest apologies. I'll update soon. Hopefully.

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Gohan was still tired, but he found himself awake anyhow. He kept his eyes closed, and turned to his other side to see if that would allow him to return to his sleep. Despite the fact that his dreams were haunted with distressing scenes which he had already forgotten, he still felt so utterly exhausted that he felt like he only slept for a few minutes. The warmth of his makeshift pillow was welcoming, and when he felt a shockingly cold breeze pass over his skin, he snuggled up closer to get more of the warmth. He laid there lazily for a while, falling back into a light sleep every so often, but he soon disappointedly realised that he wasn't going to fall into a deep one again.

It seemed that his long sleep had caused his brain to temporarily shut down. Even after a few minutes of a vain attempt to fall back asleep, he still did not remember the scene that partook several days ago, his confrontation with his father in Other World, or even his suicide. He also failed to realise that the "pillow" he was resting on was Piccolo.

He sat upright, and rubbed one eye with the back of his hand. He looked around the late afternoon, and saw the astonished face of Piccolo looking down at him.

"Oh," he said without even thinking, rather surprised at the sight, "Hello Mister Piccolo."

Piccolo blinked his eyes in disbelief. Gohan gave a small yawn.

"So, um… remind me again what we are doing out here?" He asked, scratching the back of his head embarrassingly.

"G-Gohan," Piccolo started, his mind racing through thoughts of how to deal with this. He was quick to guess the problem.

_What?! He- he's acting so calm… like what happened before didn't matter…does Gohan have amnesia?_

"Uh- what's the last thing you remember, Gohan?"

Gohan leaned back, his hands behind him and his legs outstretched on the ground. He looked to the sky in thought.

"Hmm… oh… wait, I remember! You, Father and I were all training hard for the Androids that the guy from the future told us were going to come in a few years! Yeah! We all fell asleep out here while we were training, didn't we?"

He looked around eagerly for his father, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Where is he, Piccolo?"

Piccolo remained silent.

_Gohan __**must**__ have amnesia…but…forgetting numerous years?! I can't lie to him- but how can I explain everything that had happened over those years to him?_

Piccolo sighed.

_I guess there's no choice._

"He- he left to go train alone."

Gohan's face filled with disappointment.

"He… he what? B-bu… but he promised… he _promised_ that we could train together! How- how could he…" his voice began to crack, much to his own surprise, but he just shook it off and continued, "Piccolo, where did he go? You know where he went, right?"

"I-I honestly don't know. I tried to get him to tell me, but he only told me he…he left… he left for more difficult training."

"Oh… I see…

"I was… I was holding him back…" his voice perfectly portrayed the sadness that he felt at the thought of hindering his father. But then he brightened as he got another idea, "Are you and I going to train together?"

Piccolo had to come up with an excuse on the spot.

"Uh- why don't you take a break for today?"

Gohan obviously wasn't going to fooled that easily.

"What's wrong? You… you don't want to train with me either, do you…?"

"No! No- that's not it," Piccolo said, and paused briefly as he thought of another excuse, "It's just… there is… a thing… a… an event! There's this… bakery… that… that your mother… wants you to go to… it's… grand re-opening soon… and we're… we're all going to see it!"

When Piccolo finally got his explanation out, he was so flustered that he couldn't help but shout when he did. This took Gohan by surprise, and even he- as gullible as he was- was sceptical if Piccolo was telling the truth He never knew him to lie before now, though, and so therefore believed him.

"Alright…" he said, standing up. As he did so, he felt his knees tremble below him. He stumbled slightly, but managed to catch himself before he fell completely. He laughed drolly, before adding, "I guess we were training hard, huh? I feel so heavy… like I was knocked out forever!"

Piccolo managed to not comment on this statement, and began to think of how he would make his absurd lie work. He knew that there was a bakery that _was _having a grand re-opening after they managed to invest a small amount of money into advertising and their sales picked up. That was all taken care of, but he had to somehow manage to tell Chi-chi about Gohan's amnesia, and convince her to go along with his plan of waiting it out. That was going to be the difficult part- and he had to do it without Gohan noticing.

"Uh, first things first, we are going to need some… flowers to give the owners- lots of them. A big bouquet- can you find some? I'll meet you back at your house when you're done," Piccolo improvised.

"Sure thing- I'll get right to it! See you later, Piccolo!"

The Saiyan took off in a flash of yellow, and disappeared along the horizon, much to the dismay of Piccolo as he recognised one flaw in his plan.

Gohan wasn't able to turn into a Super Saiyan until after the Androids arrived.

* * *

Okay, I know what you are all thinking. "Whoa. whoa. WHOA! I thought we were all done here!" Nope. Sorry! Still plenty more angst to go. Poor Gohan's far from done.

If you want something lighter, I'm working on a DBZ Olympic fanfic. But, I have no idea who to put in it. Well, I have ideas, just not sure of them. Go to my profile and vote on the people you want in it! Poll closes at the end of the month, so hop to it!

Until next time, warriors!!!!


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Reciprocal

Alright. I promised an update. I give you an update.

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Piccolo flew as fast as he could to Chi-chi, for he knew that it wouldn't take Gohan long to find some flowers- he could only hope that the demi-Saiyan would take his time when he did so. When he arrived, he saw Krillin somewhat "guarding" the front door- his head rolled this way and that as he gave a large snore. Piccolo didn't have time to explain things more than once, so he did the only reasonable thing to do.

"KRILLIN!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs, and successfully awoke the hairless warrior, and gained the attention of everyone that was inside the house.

"Wh-what?! Oh, it's you Piccolo! Please tell me you have good news!" Krillin shouted. As soon as everyone else had filed out of the house, and Piccolo had managed to hush their incoherent questions, he began to explain the situation.

"…so I think that the best bet would be to wait it out. If we're lucky, his memory will come back after a while. We don't want to have to make him loose his father again," Piccolo finished a little while later. Nobody had time to argue, agree, or comment, for only a few seconds later, Gohan flew in with an armful of fresh flowers- Chrysanthemums, Rhododendrons, Lilies, and Gladioluses- plenty of white Gladioluses. Everyone present looked amongst each other uncomfortably.

"Hey everyone," he announced as he landed in the centre of the group and looked at everyone smiling back at him, "You'll never believe what I found! While I was looking around, I stumbled across this place, and it is just _fields_ of these beautiful flowers! You wouldn't believe it- they went on past the horizon! I think that someone planted them all- there was a huge tower out in the middle of it. I suppose it's probably some wealthy person who planted all those flowers- well I doubt that _they_ actually planted them. They most likely hired people, I guess. Can you imagine how long it would take to plant them all?"

Everyone present knew how long it would take to plant the flowers- they were the ones who planted them. Long, hard weeks of backbreaking labour for most people, but these warriors were able to do so relatively quickly and with ease.

"Hey, maybe we could go back and check out the tower later," Gohan suggested, "It looks like it would be quite a sight!"

Everyone remained still, and despite their calm looks they were all filled with alarm as they tried to come up with a reason for why they couldn't go to the tower. One by one, they looked to each other for suggestions, until the duty finally fell on Chi-chi, who was hiding her bulging belly with much difficulty behind a tablecloth she was conveniently holding. Surprisingly enough, she was a decent actor.

"Now Gohan, you should know better. That's someone's private property that you went and took from. You basically _stole_ from them."

Gohan looked down at the lovely bouquet of flowers in his hands guiltily.

"Oh… I never thought of that. I guess that's true. Should I go and apologize?"

"No," Chi-chi said with a very convincing sigh, "There's really no way to put them back now, and I think that the owners aren't going to miss them… or notice them. Besides, if they're like any other rich person I know, they had it coming anyway. Just make sure you don't do it again."

Gohan nodded sadly and looked down, expecting a punishment. None came, however, and so he decided that it would be all right for him to speak again.

"So… this place that we're going to, where is it?"

"It's easier to just go there than to describe when it is," Krillin explained, "Shall we?"

He gestured to the sky in an elegant bow. Everyone nodded, some more anxiously than others, and they all prepared to take off for the bakery. Bulma, the elaborately hidden Trunks, Chi-chi with her elaborately hidden stomach, Master Roshi, and all of the other people who were not capable of flying loaded into Bulma's Capsule Corp. jet, while the rest unhurriedly took off. While they flew, they all tried to act as normal as possible, but none of them appeared to be looking forward to getting to their destination, save Gohan, who was rolling this way and that in the sky, behind Piccolo. He began to talk- everyone usually talked when they travelled in groups like this- but it was a rather one-sided conversation.

"Ah…! This feels so nice! I feel like I haven't been flying in forever! Kind of weird, huh? But that's what makes it all the more better. If everyday felt like this… that would be great! Well, I guess not. If it felt like this all the time, I'd guess that this feeling would grow old fast, and I wouldn't be able to appreciate it fully. Maybe flying _does_ always feel like this… and I just kind of forgot. Yeah, that's probably it!" Gohan went on for a bit longer about this concept of things growing older, talking about how he felt happier than usual, and maybe he was always this happy, but just took it for granted and made it seem trivial. He then went on to talk about how people were happy with their lives that were so less fortunate than his, and he suggested that this was perhaps because the sorrow and grief that they felt soon became normal to them as well, and ergo made life easier for them. He concluded that, while this phenomenon did make the good things in life a little less special, that it was beneficial for other times. As soon as he said this, though, he gave a somewhat perplexed face, and began to chuckle.

"Since when was I so insightful? I don't think I've ever said something like that in my life," he said somewhat seriously, before returning to his joyful wandering. He went back to revealing his intelligent propositions. After he spoke on a few more topics- some of which included the reasoning for improper grammar, why humans had "favourites", and why humans disliked being alone - they had all arrived at the bakery. They left the jet out of sight of the bakery, and Bulma decided to stay with the ship for "personal reasons"- in reality, she needed to see to Trunks, who was getting very impatient at the fact that he was being held and couldn't walk around on his own. The rest of them walked the rest of the way to the bakery.

Had Gohan had his memory, he would have been surprised at the transformation that the little bakery had undergone, for it no longer resembled the cottage at all. With new additions to the façade, it now resembled a more than respectable establishment. The signboard that used to declare it as "Flute's Fine Baked Goods" was nowhere in sight, and a new one was hung up, but hidden by a sheet so that the name could not be seen. It had a new coat of paint- white with olive detailing on the roof, shutters, and doorframe. A modest number of workers were cleaning up what remained of their equipment, and the elderly couple stood off to the side, supervising the work. When the husband saw the group of people approaching on foot, he escorted his wife over to where they were. He was familiar with these people- they had come and asked for a photo of them only a few days after their young customer, Gohan, came- they would always remember his name, for he saved their business.

Piccolo frantically tried to convey in subtle signals not to mention Gohan, but the couple obviously did not understand as they gave a baffled look back. As a result, Krillin stepped forward and took a less subtle course.

"Hello there. I would like to _introduce_ Gohan, _whom you've never met before_, and will be helping us for a little while. Gohan, this is Mr. and Mrs. Flute, the owners of the shop."

"It is very nice to meet you," Gohan followed up, "Ma'am… Sir…"

He bowed to each of them, and Mr. Flute looked at everyone with a baffled face. Krillin returned with a look that clearly stated for them to just go with the plan, and he complied- mainly out of bewilderment.

"Ah… yes… um… well, it is very nice to meet you too, Gohan…" Francis began, leaning over to his wife to whisper softly in her ear.

"Say hello, Thisbe. Apparently we've never seen this young man before. "

"Oh… hello then, young man," She added afterwards.

Gohan reached forwards and handed the flowers to her. At first, he thought it would be a senseless gift due to her blindness, but when she received them, she brought them up to her nose and inhaled deeply.

"Oh my… they are beautiful. Are those Rhododendrons?" She asked, and Gohan nodded before he realised his mistake and added a quick "yes".

"So what are you all doing here?" Mr. Flute enquired.

"We've all come to help!" Gohan replied cheerfully.

Francis nodded, "Well… um… most of the construction work is done, but we still need to set up inside. We'll get you to work on that. Now, a strong boy like you should be able to manage a few things, am I right? Well, out behind the main building, there is a shed. Inside that shed, there should be several big bags of flour. I need four of them inside. Could you go and bring them in for me?"

"Okay!" He said, and he trotted off happily to get them. Francis Flute turned to the other people, and stated his bafflement as evenly toned as he could.

"So… would any of you mind telling us what is going on? I'm not sure if it is just my age, but I am fairly confident that I have met that boy some time ago. Why did I have to tell him that I have never met him before? I don't follow."

Chi-chi stepped forward to answer the question. She explained about his amnesia, and how he needed to come out of it by himself. She was very vague, and left out almost everything, including the fact that he was the one who killed Cell, his father's death, and everything else that led up to the present situation. She did care to say that it would be better if they did not mention the monster Cell or Hercule Satan. Her abridgment caused her explanation to be extremely brief, and that was for the better, for it was only a few moments after she finished that Gohan came around the corner, all four of the flour bags slung across his shoulder as he lifted them with extreme ease, much more than he should have been able to at the time of the Androids' arrival. Luckily, he did not notice, but everyone else sure did. Now careful of what not to be saying, though, they all kept quiet.

"Where did you say you wanted these?" He asked without a hint of strain in his voice.

"Uh…" Francis was still in shock of the display of strength. Thisbe, though, was blissfully oblivious and answered for him.

"When you go inside, there should be a door at the back of the store. Through that door, there should be the ovens. If you could put them on the counter inside that door, that would be great. Thank you."

Gohan nodded, headed inside, and was back in a few moments. As he returned to the group, he suddenly realised that he was the only one working.

"All done! What else do you need us to help you with, Mr. Flute?"

Since the shock had worn off, Francis directed everyone to so some odd tasks that still needed to be completed.

First they re-stocked the baking goods, and then they helped them bake several pastries, loaves of bread, and other things. Afterwards, they decorated them so artistically and appealingly that Krillin couldn't help but sneak one cupcake away to snack on. Unfortunately for him, he was caught by the reprimanding hand of Chi-chi, who also forced him to pay for double its worth after she gave him an earful. When that was done, they put all the merchandise on view in the large, display-like cases that lined the room. Finally, they set up the tables: they stood them upright, covered them with vibrant tablecloths, and set a small centrepiece in the middle of each- on some, a small candle arrangement, and on others, a little vase with a single flower in it. The shop was now a considerable size bigger, and made a substantial quantity of merchandise for their customers, so the job took a significant amount of time. With everyone helping, though, in total it only took a few hours, so they were finished by dusk.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help, everyone. You have saved us so much trouble, time, and money. I would like to properly thank you properly- you all will get everything in the store for half price from now on. It is the least we can do. Only on condition: you all come to the grand opening, three days from now. Is it a deal?"

Everyone nodded, and gave their goodbyes to the couple as they walked back to the jet hidden a little further into the forest.

"Well guys, I really need to be getting back home…" Bulma started, without stating her reason, though it was known to everyone but Gohan, "You coming, Master Roshi? Chi-chi?"

They loaded into the jet, waved goodbye, and took off.

"I guess we're going too," Tien said for Chiaotzu, Krillin, and Yamcha, "We'll see you tomorrow, then. And Piccolo, make sure to tell us of any… developments, okay?"

With a nod form the Namekian, they too left, leaving Gohan and Piccolo alone once again.

"What did they mean by that, Piccolo?" the demi-Saiyan wondered aloud.

"It-it's nothing. We'd better be heading back too- it is getting late."

"Okay!" He said, happily taking off in a yellow flash that he was thankfully oblivious to. Piccolo sighed as he followed. He couldn't take much more of this.

* * *

Alright then. A note or two about this chapter.

First off, how many of you got the montage of bakery-happiness, Krillin-and-Chi-chi-ness, Piccolo-standing-in-the-background-looking-creeped-out, image I was going for? I laugh at that scene every time I read it. I try to put a little comic relief in this story. Is my attempt wasted? Should I stick to the angsty stuff? Leave me a review and tell me.

Don't worry. It's not going to be all "Let's bake a cake! YAY!" fun for everyone sort of stuff for the rest of this story. Actually, it's about to get more intense in the next chapter. Anticipate it greatly!

Until next time, warriors!!!!


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Revelations

Are you guys ready? It's time to get the angst into this story. Let's get right to it.

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Gohan was the first one back to his house, soon followed by Piccolo and then Chi-chi a few minutes later. Piccolo had told Gohan along the way that he was going to stay with him and his mother until Goku had returned, because he wanted to be the first to spar with him after his solitary training, and so the juvenile Gohan was gleefully skipping about with the news. It was unclear of who was more surprised of this action- Chi-chi or Piccolo. They both mentally figured that Gohan sometimes thought like his young self, and his actions reflected this. He paraded Piccolo through the house, and showed him where everything was- though when he came to his own room, he came across quite a surprise as to find it completely empty.

"…and here is my-" he began, before his eyes fell to the emptiness that was his room, "Huh?! Wha- where-? Piccolo, I-I have no idea how, but everything is gone! I don't know why… would somebody take it all?! Maybe Mom knows…"

He ran to his mother, who was outside folding laundry- again draping a tablecloth in front of her belly- and told her all of the mysterious disappearance.

"Oh… my…" was all she could say at first, "Well, um, the truth is Gohan… I… I moved it all away… to clean your floor. I thought that because you were out training that… that it would be the best time. I'm sorry."

Gohan did not say a word.

"Um… tell Piccolo to go and get it all. Tell him… that it is out by the… the… the waterfall."

"Okay then…" Gohan ran in, conveyed the message, and then returned. Piccolo could be seen leaving not for the waterfall, but in the direction of the tower that Gohan had spotted earlier. While they waited for him to return, Gohan continued, "Well, at least it all wasn't stolen! To tell you the truth though, mom, I am a bit surprised at you…"

Chi-chi silently held her breath.

"…I didn't think you could lift that much! Heheheheh!"

Chi-chi sighed with relief, and then comprehended what her son was saying.

"What is that supposed to mean? Just because I don't train everyday like your father did doesn't mean that I can't hold my own!" She raised her voice, and didn't even realise her mistake. Unfortunately, Gohan had.

"'Did'? What do you mean? Is father not training anymore?" He asked.

Chi-chi was panicking inside, but managed to remain cool-headed, "I-I thought that-that all three of you stopped training… like Piccolo, him, and you. Didn't he stop as well?"

"No," Gohan replied with a sad exhale, looking at the ground, "He's still training… alone. I was holding him back, and he wanted more difficult training."

He looked off to one side, over his shoulder, and stared far away, almost like in hope of seeing his father. His eyes scanned along the horizon, but he didn't see him. He really didn't expect to, but he didn't want to take the slim chance he did have for granted. His heart soared for a moment, as he saw someone along the horizon heading towards him. It was only Piccolo, though, with an oversized load of furniture and possessions in his arms. Gohan hurried over, and helped him carry some of the cargo back to his bare room. They took a few minutes to set up the room, but soon it was indistinguishable from its state before it was violated. Night had completely fallen when they were done, accompanied by an overcast, and therefore starless, moonless sky. Piccolo and Chi-chi were quite surprised when a large yawn came from the half-Saiyan.

"Do you know what time it is? I'm exhausted. I think I need a good, long rest. Is that alright with you guys?"

Piccolo and Chi-chi did not answer right away, for they were shocked at how someone who was asleep for over a week could be tired after only a few hours of daylight. Piccolo was really hard-pressed to resist the temptation to say "no", for if eleven days was Gohan's idea of "just a little" rest, then he was not looking forward to seeing a "good, long" one.

"It's fine with me, just change out of that outfit," Chi-chi responded automatically, pointing at the outfit that Gohan was wearing. She immediately regretted this, as his attention was brought to the garments.

It was orange, and in the same style as his father's, and with his family's "Son" emblem embroidered on the front, with his own "Han" emblem on the back. Chi-chi had made it especially for Gohan as his final garment, but now realized that Gohan would not hold any memories of such an outfit.

"This… where did I get this? I've never seen this before in my life."

In the race to come up with a decent lie between Piccolo and Chi-chi, Piccolo won. Piccolo even shockingly realised that he was becoming _good_ at lying.

"Before he left, your father gave that to you. You… don't remember putting it on? I guess not- you were half-asleep. He gave it to you so… so that you would continue training even after he left- no matter what. He wants you to become strong too."

Gohan's face lit up with this statement. He looked at the clothes with more admiration than they deserved.

"Really? He… he said that? He thinks that I should still train?"

Piccolo nodded, but with hidden guilt.

"Wow… I… I always thought that I was no good at fighting… that I'd never amount to anything…"

_Could Gohan's depression have started as early as this? I truly was blind._

"…but… if Father believes in me… he must have good reason to! Yeah! I will train hard for him!" He said, holding his arm up high in determination of his new goal.

"That can wait," Chi-chi interrupted, shattering the uplifting moment, "Now it's time for bed. Off you go, now."

Gohan nodded, and Chi-chi and Piccolo left the room. As another yawn escaped, Gohan really felt ready to go to sleep.

He reached over his head to tug off his shirt, but as he did so he felt an odd tenderness as the material dragged along his arm. It was nothing horrendous- in fact, it was hardly noticeable- but it was enough to catch his attention. As he completely removed the shirt, he couldn't help but look at his arms in horror.

Both his left and right forearms were scarred with dozens of lacerations. A greenish-brown bruising surrounded some of them- those were older- but others were so recent that they could have only just stopped bleeding. He stared down in terror, and couldn't help but question if this was just some illusion. He hesitantly and delicately touched his right hand to his left arm, and ran his finger along the grooves as he felt the unmistakeable tenderness of injury and bruising when he made contact with them.

These were far too real.

Gohan felt dizzy as he saw them- mostly from the shock of how they could have got there. He felt a deep sense of shame at them as well, for no apparent reason. He stared at them for a long time- and as he did so, he had an irritating sense that he had known about these before, but he was completely unsure of why, because he was positive that they were not there the previous day. He continued to stare at the scores in his arm, and soon felt light-headedness causing himself to stumble back as he shut his eyes and reached for his temple. An odd smell filled his nose while he nearly fell backwards, for his balance failed as he was completely lost in the sensation overcoming his mind.

* * *

_Tossing and turning in his bed, Gohan's eyes quavered underneath his closed eyelids. He muttered a few words, most of them incoherent, but sometimes a clearly articulated "no" could be heard amongst them. When he finally awoke, he jolted into an upright position and panted heavily, beads of sweat rolling down his neck. As soon as he caught his breath, he took hold of his head in his hands, and tightly gripped his ebony hair as he rocked himself back and forth on his bed. He buried his head into his knees, which were pressed close to his chest by his arms._

"_Argh!" __He brought his head away from his knees and stared down at them, __"No! Father! I… I can't believe I let that happen… no… no… no… it was all my fault… why must you be the one to pay for my mistakes?! I should have been the one… __**I **__should have… why you…? I wish it would have been me! …" _

_Gohan returned his head to his knees, attempting to smother the sobs that he let escape. It worked to some extent, as undoubtedly his mother did not hear him from her room. Because of his experience of keeping quiet, she hadn't comforted him in a long while, for she believed that there was no need to. Unfortunately for her, this judgement was far from sound._

_A few minutes later, he once again pulled his face away and stared at his knees, but this time with eyes shaking from anticipatable tears. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anger and hatred aimed at one person: himself. When he opened his eyes, he looked across the room, to a drawer at his desk. He paused to look at it for a few moments, before he swung his legs around off the bed, stepped off, walked up to the desk and sat down on the chair. He turned to the drawer, opened it, and saw its contents concealed by a piece of red cloth, which he removed. He carefully slipped out a picture frame, and looked at it longingly. It was a family portrait of his mother, his father, and himself- although he was no more than four at the time. He gazed at it for a moment, and used his thumb to stroke the glass sheet separating him from this past world he so dearly wanted to still be a part of. He then delicately set it down, and drew his attention to the other item in the drawer. He carefully reached in, drew it out, and watched as the moonlight from his window glinted off of its metallic blade._

_The feeling of the dagger in his hand felt so befitting that he didn't even question if his intentions were wrong. The bronze hilt was eerily warm, despite only being held for a few moments. It was almost as if it were thirsty for blood- his blood. He looked at both his arms, the number of scars on them accumulating. He waged for a second which arm was less disfigured, and decided on the right._

_He passed the hilt to his left hand, and paused for a moment as he gave a second look to the photograph. He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes as he brought the comparably cold blade to his forearm, forcing the point into piercing his unprotected skin, and slowly allowing it to glide across the surface. He did not make a noise, despite the obvious pain that he would be experiencing. He did not attempt to avoid the sting of the blade- in fact, he welcomed it, for it took his attention away from everything else. Only having one thing on his mind was serenely simple- even if that one thing was throbbing pain. _

_After the incision was over an inch long, Gohan withdrew the blade and laid it down on the red-stained piece of cloth. He watched the crimson liquid stream down his arm for a few minutes, silent the entire time. He did not think during those moments, and that was enough to make him feel the happiest he had in weeks- albeit the happiness was considerably small._

_His empty mind slowly began to fill with thoughts again as the ache of the incision dulled so that it became less and less prominent, and the blood stopped flowing. It was just his luck that his quickly healing body always shortened the only comfort that he could receive at the moment. He disappointedly felt this, and immediately reached back for the blade a little too fast, as he knocked the hilt against his desk._

_He was bringing the blade down once again to his arm when he heard the floor outside of his room creak. This was so much to his surprise that he unintentionally and unexpectedly nicked the side of his arm, causing him to give a small grunt of pain. He quickly grabbed the cloth, wrapped it around the dagger, and hurriedly shoved it into the drawer. It was just in time, for Chi-chi entered the room half asleep not a second later._

"_Gohan? What are you doing up at this tine?" __She asked, but didn't give him time to answer before adding,__ "Get back to bed- you'll be exhausted tomorrow!"_

_Gohan nodded, tightly clutching his right arm behind his back to hide the blood flow he wished would last longer. Chi-chi left and returned to her room, and Gohan released the breath he was holding. After carefully putting the portrait in the drawer as well, he bitterly obeyed his mother's orders and returned to his bed, several more long hours of disturbing dreams awaiting him._

* * *

The world rushed back to Gohan in an instant. He collapsed onto his knees, arms still held out in front of him. He breathed heavily, trembling in terror. He stared blankly at his arms as he tried to comprehend what he had just seen. His graceless decent to the floor provided enough noise as to draw Piccolo's attention to his room, and not a minute later he was standing in the doorway of the room, staring down at the demi-Saiyan. Gohan was too distressed to even look at the Namekian. He slowly drew closer, and Gohan swallowed hard in a meagre attempt to talk.

"I…I… I didn't…I…I couldn't… I couldn't have…"

Piccolo kneeled down beside him, and placed his arms around his shoulders. He did not say a word, for he had no idea of how to deal with this situation. Gohan looked up at him with terrified eyes.

"Piccolo… …what… …what's happening to me?"

Piccolo's heart broke as he said the only thing that he could.

"I'm sorry Gohan, you… you are going to have to figure this out by yourself."

The horrified young Saiyan stared in shock at his mentor. He looked back down to his arms, and the gashes that lined them. He saw the one that was made during the vision that he was forced to witness- even where he unintentionally gave himself a small cut. His doubts about the authenticity of the hallucination were beginning to fade, replaced with feelings of pure terror.

Piccolo tried to help him up, but Gohan, petrified, did not move a muscle. Piccolo heard footsteps on the floor, and knew that Chi-chi was headed this way. She knew nothing about the incisions on her son's arms, and Piccolo wanted to keep it that way. He knew just how delicate Gohan's state of mind was right now, and that he should be treating him as tenderly as possible, but at the moment that was not possible. He gave a mental apology ahead of time, and forcibly stood the shaken Gohan.

"…put your arms behind your back," Piccolo grunted, but out of reluctance, not insensitivity. Gohan, though, only heard the bitterness and coldness in his voice, and looked back at the Namekian with his terrified eyes, begging for compassion and pity. Piccolo knew that there was no time for this, and snapped back far too ferociously, "Do it now!"

Gohan obeyed, more out of fear and shock than respect, and avoided further eye contact with his ruthless, cruel, and heartless teacher. He could not believe how unforgiving Piccolo had become- leaving him alone to fend for himself when he needed his help most. He knew that Piccolo understood what was happening to him by the way he told him to figure it out on his own. If he did, then why did he abandon him, leaving him alone, hopeless, and not knowing what to do?

Chi-chi entered the room, and smiled at the subtly shivering Gohan.

"Well now, aren't you ready for bed yet?" She asked, "Piccolo here is a distraction, I see. Maybe he should leave."

"I think so too," Piccolo concurred.

Chi-chi was expecting for Gohan to protest, but he simply gave a small nod in agreement. This tipped Chi-chi off as to something being wrong, but she knew better than to ask because of the delicate situation that Gohan was in. Both of the adults left the room, leaving Gohan as something he truly did not want to be:

Alone.

He obeyed his mother's wishes, and changed into pyjamas that he seldom used, which were a plain, dark blue with no design, and well suiting of his mood. But afterwards, when he sat down on his bed, he no longer felt the pressing need to go to sleep. He looked again at his arms, and tried to remain strong, but he once again found himself lost in tears. He- without even realising- smothered his tears in his knees in the same manner as he did in the vision. He kept himself there, and suffered quietly, in solitary. He was ashamed of his cries, and pressed his knees even closer to his face to stifle them. As he continued to think about the wounds, he felt overwhelmed by the events that he had witnessed, and his distress mounted along with the intensity of his sobs. They became so loud that in attempt to suppress them, Gohan began to cut off his own air supply, and so asphyxiated himself to such an extent as to loose consciousness yet again. Fortunately, he was on his bed, and fell to the comfort of his pillow and blankets. His sleep, however, would be plagued just the same as if he remembered the horrific events that filled his life- it seemed that his timely amnesia was not going to excuse him from the spiteful condemnation that he was sentenced to.

* * *

I have nothing to say about this chapter. But, I do have somethings to say about other stuff.

First of all, I'm going to be needing a few more votes for my poll of who should be in my short story. I'm not going to start until the begining of April, so you have a little time. Until then, I'd appretiate your votes. All ideas are welcome.

Otherwise, I think that I'm going to soon be posting some non-DBZ stuff. Some _Death Note_, maybe some _Legend of Zelda_ and _Okami_, and maybe some others. If you are interested in any of those and like my style, be sure to keep an eye out. I hope to see lots of you on those stories too. If not, just sit back and enjoy the _Dragonball Z_ stuff I'll be sure to stick with.

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	16. Chapter Sixteen: La Rêve, Partie Un

Wow! I got some awesome reviews this update. A big thanks to the two new ones- Septdeneuf and BloodDrownedRose. Not that all of you other guys aren't awesome, all of you dedicated ones (You know who you are...). I take all of my criticism very seriously, so be sure to check my newer and more improved work after this story is done if you like my style.

'Tis enough from me.

Chapter Sixteen

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_~ Standing in an open, desert wasteland, Gohan looked up at the sky, staring at a distant silhouette that he could not see in detail yet. He was able to see the fact that it was missing several segments of its limbs, and losing a substantial amount of blood. He smiled at this, and its moans of pain made his ears sing. He continued to watch the torment of the creature, and enjoyed every second of it. He knew that he was not alone with this being, but ignored the majority of the distressed calls coming from a nearby cliff. One in particular, though, caught his attention. ~_

_~ "Gohan! You have to take Cell down now before he can regenerate!" He heard his father shout. He took his attention away from the suffering creature and looked at his father with a puzzled face. ~_

_~ "Take him down now?" he asked, as if the concept was absurd. His eyes narrowed in thought, before he turned his attention back to the being high above him, smiling, "No, I think I'll wait. I'm going to let him suffer for a little while." ~_

_~ His father opened his mouth in shock, "Wait? No, Gohan…" ~_

_~ Everyone present did not move for a while, all of them out of disbelief except for beast- now known as Cell- out of pain, and Gohan, out of enjoyment. Piccolo said something to Goku that Gohan couldn't hear, but it managed to regain Goku his senses, for he shouted at his son again. ~_

_~ "Gohan! Listen to me- you've got to get him! Do it now!" ~_

_~ Gohan looked back at his father and said nothing, a sadistic and unforgiving smile beaming across his face. ~_

_~ "We all know you have the power! It's time to use it!" ~_

_~ Still Gohan looked at his father with the unnerving smile. He again brought his attention back to Cell, still floating in the air, and did nothing. A few moments later, Cell grunted in effort, and began to shake as he held out one arm stump. He gave a pained shout, and a new arm sprouted forth, covered in a slimy substance. The same happened to all of his other missing appendages, until all of them had returned. The creature huffed out of weariness, but soon caught his breath. ~_

_~ "I…am…whole!" The beast proclaimed. His interest suddenly became oriented at the golden-haired boy below him, who was looking quite pleased at his pain. "You wretched child! How dare you?! HOW DARE YOU?!" ~_

_~ He threw his arms up, and began to grunt as he concentrated his energy. His body suddenly expanded to a gigantic form as he shouted vociferously. He could now be seen clearly, even from where Gohan stood, hundreds of feet below. His actual profile was similar to that of a person, but now it was blown up so that it was too muscular to be human- which he obviously wasn't. The majority of his body was green, with scaly darker green spots covering the green area. There were certain places, though, where a sleek, purple, and leather-like covering replaced the green- places such as his calves, shoulders, pectoral muscles, crest of his head, and the two, gigantic, insect-like wings that protruded from the base of his neck. His head was the oddest part- it was a pale, off-white colour, with a yellow border along his jaw line, and a violet band of skin on either side of his face between his eyes and the aforementioned yellow border. He also had somewhat of a crown- in replacement of any eyebrows- that rose to a point on both sides of his head, like horns. This "crown" was also comprised of the scaly green skin. Before this unexpected change of appearance, Cell looked somewhat civil. Now, however, his form was ferocious. ~_

_~ Gohan looked at the monster without any fear despite this- instead, he smirked at the ugly beast that dropped in front of him with a large crash. ~_

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The large crash seemed all too real for Gohan, as it shocked him enough as to cause him to nearly fall off of his bed. He managed to catch himself before he did, though, silently pushing himself upright by his firmly placed hands on the ground. The initial incident took managed to take his mind off of the dream, for as he pushed himself up he was forced to look at his scar-laden arms once again. The original shock from the discovery of the wounds had worn off, but he was far from nearing acceptance of their presence. What he wanted to know was how they got there- and why. The previous night seemed like a long-since-passed memory, and because of this, he doubted the validity of that spontaneous dream-like vision once again. He dearly wished and hoped for it all just to be a lie- a fictitious story that his mind had somehow created to teach him some sort of lesson, or as his unintentional way of giving a reason for the sudden appearance of the gashes. There was one way to know for sure.

Gohan- mimicking himself from in his delusion- left his position on the bed and walked over to his desk, where he sat down and stared hard at the drawer. He extended his hand tentatively, and held the handle for a few seconds without opening it. He closed his eyes and made a silent wish for the drawer to be filled with schoolwork and everything else he remembered, even though he knew something as pitiful as a wish would not change the contents of the drawer. He finally opened his eyes and pulled on the handle, and looked into the drawer.

His heart nearly stopped as his worst fears were realized.

There, uncovered and exposed to the world in the open drawer, was the same picture in the same frame, lying next to the same hurriedly wrapped item, somewhat covered by a red cloth but part of a bronze hilt was still very much visible. Gohan reached down, took out the photo with shaking hands and horrifically saw a large, dried drop of blood on the glass. He shook his head in disbelief.

"No… no, it's not true…" he whispered under his breath, though it was painfully clear that it was true. Gohan could not believe it- he gave himself these wounds, wilfully and intentionally. Not only was that simple fact gruesome, but there were other disturbing thoughts that were provoked.

_Why do I not remember giving myself these?! Is there a reason for why these acts are erased from my memory? What else can I not remember? _ Worse yet- _will I ever remember everything again? What about my friends- they all have been acting so strange- they must know about this! Why didn't they tell me- or warn me- or even support me?! Piccolo most of all-! He told me directly that I was going to have to figure this out on my own. He abandoned me- willingly put me into a… a… __**bizarre **__situation that I have no idea how to deal with! He isn't going to help me, even though he can!_ _Why?_

Gohan suddenly had another thought, away from his drastically changed mentor. He was not only alarmed by the fact that he had these scars, but as to why he made them to begin with. At the moment, Gohan couldn't think of any reason as to why he would hurt himself.

_What was it out of- self-punishment for wrong decisions? An illogical desire for pain? Some absurd new training goal? Perhaps… perhaps even insanity?_

Nothing really made sense- for all Gohan knew, it could have been all of those options and more. He felt truly helpless- uncertain and unknowing to what was happening in his own life, kept in the dark by his failing memory and unsupportive friends. He couldn't stop asking why.

_Why can't I remember? Why did I give these to myself? Why aren't my friends going to help? Why?_

He couldn't find an answer for any of his questions, any of his whys, even after thinking about them for the long minutes that he had until daybreak, for his dream had caused him to awaken short of it. That was another matter altogether- his dream. It was far too odd to go unnoticed- he had never had a dream that was so vivid and detailed before. Not only that, but the events were odd as well. He decided to leave the dream alone, though, for most likely it was nothing- just some odd thing that his terrified mind had managed to conjure up. Instead, he thought about the more burning and distressing matters: the scars, the lack of memory, and the odd behaviour of his friends. He thought long and hard, questioning everything that he could, but in the end always managed to discover nothing, while simultaneously managing to make himself feel even worse than before. He was halted, though, when he heard his mother's singsong voice come calling.

"Gohan! Come on down for breakfast!"

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Yep. There you go.

(Whoops. Looks like I forgot something. Thanks, person!)

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Deceit

Bonjour, mes amis! Vous êtes très patients pour cette chapitre. Il y a une petite problem avec mon ordinateur, et bien... mais, la chapitre est ici! L'adorez!

Ha ha ha. Just practicing my French. I'm a little rusty... any Francophones out there who can tell me if it is decent or needs work? Or not. Just thought I'd better put something interesting here. I'm a little boring, I guess.

Direz _bonjour_: Chapter Seventeen

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Gohandid not answer his mother's call, and paused almost in shock of the simple request. He realized soon, though, that if he didn't comply, that his mother would become suspicious, and begin to become meddlesome- and he honestly neither needed nor wanted that.

_Besides,_he thought, _She must be aware of my memory loss as well, and also chooses to keep me in the dark. She knows more than I do anyway- very much enough._

Gohanquickly placed the picture back into its prison. He reluctantly pulled himself off of his bed, changed into some clothing equally uninteresting as his pyjamas: a grey and washed-out shirt with long sleeves, and unremarkable beige trousers. He headed for the kitchen, where his mother was lining the table with plates of food- pancakes, bacon, berries, sausages, waffles, and numerous others. Not only was the selection huge, but the amount of it was tremendous as well. Food was piled so high that Chi-chi was forced to become an acrobat when she moved with it, as it tipped this way and that, threatening to fall off at any moment. He sat down at his usual place, and looked at the food dully. He felt his stomach churn in desire of the food, but it lurched at the same time at the thought of eating. He did not motion to begin eating as he sat there, and remained uncomfortably silent- too silent for Chi-chi's liking. She sighed aloud, knowing that life wasn't going to be the same for a while.

_If I act like everything is normal… maybe it won't be as difficult, _Chi-chi thought,_He won't know the difference… he doesn't know that anything'swrong yet. Yes, that's what I'll do._

Gohansuddenly saw the fact that there were three sets of plates, despite the fact that only himself and his mother present at the moment. He perked up for a moment, as he suddenly thought that maybe his father had returned from his training. He knew that his father wouldn't keep a secretfrom him, and that he would explain everything. He thought about this for a few moments, not touching any food, as his mother sat down and began to mannerly eat away at the mountains of food. After several minutes had passed and his father had not joined them, Gohanbegan to doubt if he was back.

"Are… are we eating by ourselves?" He asked unemotionally in a half-whisper, trying not to imply that he thought that his father was coming, "No one else?"

"Well, I thought that maybe Piccolo was going to join us, but I haven't seen him all morning. I suppose he's out training some more…" She said, and paused before adding, "You know, for the Androids."

Every word stung him, as he could not discern the lies from the truth. All of it could be a lie, and he wouldn't know. He bitterly tried to accept the words, but he felt that he could no longer trust anyone- even his own mother. They all had been keeping a cruel secretfrom him. All of them except for his father- Gohanknew that he would never do something like that. When his father came back, he would be able to make everything clear. He would explain everything.

As he sat there, doing nothing but thinking, he saw his mother eye him suspiciously. Of course she would- he wasn't eating despite the fact that it was time for breakfast and there were piles upon piles of food sitting in front of him. He swallowed hard as he realized that he would be asked questions if he didn't act normally. He would have to live his life a lie to counteract their lies.

_Great._

He placed several widely spread items onto his plate, making it appear that there was more food then there was, and did so as slowly as he could, trying to waste as much time as possible. He then stared at the meticulously prepared food for a few minutes, before he finally picked up his fork and put the tiniest possible piece of waffle on it, gradually raised the fork to his mouth, and then chewed it for much longer than required. After far too long, he finally swallowed the piece and looked at the food once again before he repeated the process. It took him close to half an hour to finish the small amount of food that he placed onto his plate, and this made it seem like he ate much more than he did in reality. The food on the table, though, was still piled high, and it was almost expected of him to be eating more. The thought of any more food, though, was sickening to him. Chi-chi saw him visibly pale, and she asked the question Gohanwas dreading.

"What's wrong, Gohan? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he sullenly replied, and making it extremely obvious that he was lying. Chi-chi heard this, but despite that took her son's word as enough. Her uncertainty of the situation coupled with the amount of dilemmas she had been in the past year made her parenting at the moment less than stellar. She decided to simply shrug off her son's obvious dejection and began to talk about other matters: what she needed to do today, when she was going to do it, what she was going to have trouble with… all trivial matters that were the furthest from "of the essence" as possible. This was perhaps the worst thing she could have done, but she still chattered on, thinking that keeping conversation going would help. She was oblivious, though, to the fact that her son was not paying any attention to her at all.

He was too enveloped in thought to hear her, let alone care. He kept thinking- about the scars, about all the lies, about his lack of memory, about his dream, about his vision- and the entire time he had a distressing sense of repetition in his life. It was at the edge of his mind at first, barely perceptible and quickly disregarded, but it kept coming back stronger and making itself unable to be ignored. He began to become frustrated at the feeling, and unconsciously felt his hands- which were resting on his legs- become tense and put pressure on his thighs. This pressure was accompanied by something else he found familiar- a barely noticeable and odd tenderness, far too similar to the one he felt on his arms. He breathed a silent sigh- half in disbelief, half in frustration.

_I… another… again…_

He unnoticeablyfelt his leg to confirm what he suspected. He felt grooves again- but this time they were not long and precise. They were shorter- only about a centimetre across- and their placement was odd. Four were adjacent to each other on each leg, with one isolated and further off from the rest of them, both thighs mirroring one another. He could not see them and therefore couldn't be sure, but the wounds themselves did not appear to be only one incision- each of the ten separate segments felt to be overlaid with another, identical wound. It was almost as if he was cut by the same thing, in the same place, in the same manner, but on a different occasion.

As soon as this revelation passed through his mind, he felt faint and light-headed again. As the scent filled his nose once more, his sight suddenly faded away before his eyes, and he gave several blinks in an unsuccessful attempt to make it return. He kept his eyes shut as the unwelcome images became clear.

* * *

_Gohansat motionless at the table, looking at the ground in deep thought. His mother was standing with her back turned to him, washing dishes while having a one-sided conversation. _

"…_oh but I'm sure Bulmameans well, but honestly, a Capsule of Capsules? That's absurd! Of course Dr. Briefs loves the idea, but he's a bit of a loon anyway. I think it runs in the family- I'm nervous about how Trunks is going to turn out with an insane mother like Bulma, let alone Vegetaas a father!"_

_Gohanwas not paying attention, but he did hear one word stand out from the rest._

"_Father…" __he whispered. Chi-chi didn't hear, and continued on with her superficial conversation, but Gohanrecognised the threat of being heard almost immediately, so forced himself quiet and continued his train of thought in silence._

_'Father… how… how could I do that?! I was such a fool! Nothing more than a conceited, wretched child, whose disobedience caused so much suffering! It… it was my fault! It was __**my**__fault, Father, and… and you were the one to pay! You always were the one to clean up my messes! I… I am such a disgraceful excuse for a son!'_

_He didn't stop there. He wouldn't allow himself to forgetwhat he did- he wouldn't allow himself to be forgiven. On he went, driving his already waning sense of worth further and further down until he had no self-respect at all. At that moment, he could care less about himself- had someone insulted him, he would have agreed with them. Had he been hurt or punished by someone, he would have thanked them. He honestly did not care anymore- he was certain that he was the most vile and detestable creature alive at that moment. He kept insulting and mentally beating himself, and did this so brutally and viscouslythat it was possible to see him cringe with every mental blow. He held his mouth firmly shut, and heard his mother chatter on._

_'Fool!'_

_He felt his hands clench tight on his thighs in attempt to keep all of the rage and hatred bottled inside of him._

_'Idiot!'_

_Tighter, ever tighter he gripped._

_'Spoiled brat!'_

_He felt his nails dig deeper, until they even pierced his skin._

_'Pampered baby!'_

_Blood began to seep from the wounds and he gripped tighter as to prevent it from going anywhere. _

_'You're nothing more than a failure!'_

_Tighter…_

_'A failure!'_

_Deeper…_

_'Nothing more!'_

_Piercing…_

_'Failure! Failure! Failure!'_

_Seeping…_

"_Gohan!" __Chi-chi shouted, shattering the abusive thoughts of the demi-Saiyanand giving him a brusque reality check. Gohanlooked at her with infuriated eyes,__ eyes filled with hatred, anger, ferocity, and pure Saiyanrage- a glare that would be enough to terrify even the bravest of warriors. Chi-chi immediately took back her question, and backed up in fear of the child. Gohan, though, instantly realised his mistake at allowing some of his hatred to be aimed at someone other than himself. He released his lethal grip and relaxed, wearing a fake smile to comfort his mother._

"_I… I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean to…" __he started, but did not want to finish so instead said, __"I think I'm tired. I'll… I'm going to bed." _

_He made his abrupt departure to his room, quickly so not to allow any blood to drip or become visible to his mother. Chi-chi stood in shock for a moment, trying to think of an explanation for the odd behaviour. _

"_I guess I'm working him too hard," __she decided, in denial, "__He worries me. I wish Gokuwas here now. He'd know what to do."_

_Gohan, even from his room, could hear her words as clearly as if she was addressing him. He wished he hadn't, though. He had enough guilt as it was without knowing that his mother regretted his actions as well. She wished that he hadn't been an arrogant, selfish child as well. She wished that he had just done as his father had told him. He had known all along that his mother felt this way, but the confirmation was hard to accept nevertheless. Yetanother person he failed- another person who would have benefited if he hadn't been so foolish, or even if he had never existed to begin with. _

_How long would fate draw out his cruel punishment?_

* * *

A large breath escaped from Gohanas the second unwelcome hallucination came to an abrupt stop. He felt physically exhausted from it, despite the fact that the entire thing had occurred within a few minutes, and it all was inside of his head. He quickly caught his breath, and shook off a few beads of sweat on his face. He quickly looked to his mother, but thankfully, she hadn't noticed the spell that Gohanjust underwent. She was blisfullyunable to hear her son's distressed thoughts, or his pounding heart. He managed to keep his fear and concern silent, and wordlessly sat in shock of the unpleasant discovery. It did not take him long, though, to calm his mind enough so that he was at least able to think.

_An…another one? How many times did I… do this…? What… what was so awful that I would resort to doing something so… so… so desperate? I don't know what would make me do that-! Maybe… maybe I don't want to remember my life. If it was filled with so much anguish- or evil- or emptiness- or hatred- that I would do something like that… perhaps I should never remember what it was that happened. _

_But life will not grant me that luxury, will it? No, of course it wouldn't. If I am going to remember the times I gave myself these, then I am obviously going to remember everything again at some point. Then… and then I will remember what was so horrendous that I would harm myself to find comfort. Without a doubt, then I will return to doing so. It's… it's unavoidable. I can delay it as much as I want, but I will eventually be forced to return to the pitiable life that I was lucky enough to escape for a little while. Now that I know that I have forgotten things… it won't be long until I remember it all. _

_Then it will be the same again…_

Gohanbrought himself away from his thoughts, and saw that his mother was _still_mindlessly jabbering away.

_How nice it must be… to be oblivious…_

Gohanwaited patiently for his mother to stop talking for a moment so that he could cut in, but she didn't give him an opportunity to. Eventually, he had to just interrupt her anyway- which would usually have upset him, but he was oddly unfeeling to it now.

"I… I'm finished…" he muttered softly, "I'll be leaving now… if that is alright."

He stood before his mother could even give him the permission he asked for, and walked out the front door without another word.

_There's really only one thing to do now- find my Father so that he can explain everything. Maybe before I was too irrational and arrogant to ask for help, but I'm going to ask for it now, when I have the sense. If anyone is going to be able to help me through this… it is Father._

He looked upwards for a moment, before taking a slow ascent to the sky so that he could begin his search. He tried- and failed- to find his father's energy signal. Gohanassumed that he was suppressing it intentionally, so that he would not be found and disturbed. That meant that he would have to find his father using his eyes.

First, he started in the obvious places to train, such as the waterfalls and the high, perilous cliffs- everywhere abandoned and isolated. Afterwards, when he could not find him, he started to sweep around the surrounding area to see if he could spot him, unlikely as it was.

Gohanlooked for him for hours on end, without stop for any need whatsoever. It was fruitless, though, as he finally and reluctantly returned home well after dark, without even seeing a sign of his father. His mother was far from impressed, and was not shy about showing it.

"Gohan! Where have you been?! You never told me where you were going- and you also left out the part where you were going to be gone the entire day!" She shouted, louder than usual. She genuinely was worried- she had just got her son back, and she did not want to lose him again. That, along with the fact that she was trying to behave in the same manner that she would have before the Androids arrived, and at that point in time, this behaviour would be unacceptable. It hurt her to do so, but she truly believed that it was for the best.

"Sorry," was Gohan'sapology and nothing more. Chi-chi was dumbfounded, and didn't know what to say at first.

"Well then, you'd better be heading to… bed," she finally replied, watching as her son walked away from her while she spoke. He was already gone by the time she got to the word "bed". She had half a mind to start shouting at him about respect, but had enough sense as to hold her tongue. She looked around the empty kitchen, and eventually sat down on a chair, staring blankly at nothing in particular.

_Where's my bright and lively and polite son?_

Gohansat on his bed in the same manner, and stared out his window with a forlorn face.

_Where is my Father?_

It wasn't long before the lack of sleep and nourishment became too much for Gohanto ignore, and his already half-asleep body slumped over in his bed again, and went to sleep completely- not to mention unwillingly. He knew very well that his dreams were not going to provide any comfort from such a brutal, unforgiving world- if anything, they were worse.

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C'est bon? Ou non?

Tell me in a comment what you thought of it, or if you just have to say something in general. I'm always open for advice or generic information...

On a side note, I'm working away on several different stories right now. I'm debating whether or not to put a little summary/title of each story so that you guys will have an idea of what I am working on, so tell me your thoughts and suggestions.

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	18. Chapter Eighteen: La Rêve, Partie Deux

The next, short segment. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Eighteen

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_~ The large, repulsive monster loomed over Gohan with a terrorizing scowl across his face. The demi-Saiyan, though, looked at him blankly- almost uninterestedly. This expression, though, only caused more rage for the hideous brute. ~_

_~ "Boy! You won't defeat me! A worthless Saiyan like you can't compete with me- I am invincible!" Cell shouted in Gohan's face, not deterring him in the least, "And now I will make you pay!" ~_

_~ He threw a powerful and lethal punch at Gohan, but the nimble young Saiyan simply jumped out of the way, landing behind the tyrant. Cell immediately stomped over to where he was, and threw another punch his way, but still Gohan dodged it. He tried again and again, but his punches were far too slow to even come close to hitting him. Gohan knew why- while Cell's larger form made him more powerful, he lost the agility that he needed to catch up with him. Gohan was able to evade every strike without giving so much as an effort, and so soon became bored with the match. When he landed on the ground after avoiding yet another blow, he gave a grin before he kicked Cell square on the cheek. Cell was sent reeling, with his face sporting a visible indent the size of an eleven-year-old's foot. ~_

_~ "You're not a boy…" Cell grunted between a groan of pain, "You're a monster!" ~_

_~ Gohan did not like this comment. He rushed at Cell, and dealt him another kick, but this time to his stomach. He leaped back, landing soundlessly on the ground as Cell stumbled to keep his balance. The beast's mouth was fixed open in an exclamation of pain, with a milky-white fluid leaking from it, and his eyes locked looking in different directions. The gigantic monster collapsed to one knee, but supported himself with an arm as he tried to stand upright again. The pain caused him to double over, though, and he completely fell in front of the smiling Gohan. ~_

_~ "What have you done to me?!" Cell managed to groan. He did not have time to receive an answer, though, as he involuntarily began to gag, with his torso and stomach pulsating. Gohan watched impassively for a few minutes, the gigantic Cell retching and leaking intestinal fluid. He knew now that there was no reason to worry- Cell's life force was already diminishing, and soon he would no longer pose a threat. ~_

_~ Cell shook where he stood, and his throbbing body bent over as something visibly travelled up his throat. He raised his hand to his mouth in attempt to stop it, but eventually gave in as his mouth burst open, a large and bulky object covered in greenish-white slime erupting from it. It slowly and gruesomely hung from his mouth for a while, slipping a little a few times before it fell completely from his jaws to the sandy and barren earth in a splash of nauseating liquid that Cell continued to vomit onto the ground. Gohan, witnessing it all directly ahead and only a few feet away from him, still grinned pitilessly at the sight. He was enjoying this. He saw out of the corner of his eye that the object was now revealed to be an unconscious, beautiful blonde woman. Again, numerous shouts came from the cliff, but Gohan disregarded them without a second thought. ~_

_~ The humungous beast retched up more of the ghastly liquid, before he finally stopped and bellowed at the amused half-Saiyan. ~_

_~ "I'll get you for this!" ~_

_~ The still inflated ogre bent down, and picked up the head of the woman, bringing it up to his mouth. This resulted in more screams of protest from the overhanging precipice, but they were silenced as Cell involuntarily dropped the woman. He began to shriek in pain, and let off a pitiful and diminishing amount of energy. It was so small that all it managed to do was send wisps of sand away at ground level. There was another ignored shout from the cliff, and then the gigantic beast obviously began to undergo another transformation. He began to release purple steam, his outer layer appearing to dissolve away. His regal appearance melted away, being replaced by another, with darker skin, more primitive features, and- most obviously- a much less pleasant face, with more robust features and a lack of a nose. The bystanders gasped in shock, as an orange striped tail sprouted and whipped around from the back of Cell, who was panting heavily. More chatter came from the overhang, once again disregarded by the still heavily breathing Cell and the almost bored Gohan. Cell finally caught his breath, and glowered at the small being ahead of him. ~_

_~"BOY!" He roared, while stomping forward with enough force to create craters below him, "You- little- insect-! You've made a fool of me!" ~_

_~ The monster was so enraged as to charge at the demi-Saiyan without even thinking- a bad decision on his part. He threw several slow punches, his attempt at hitting Gohan evidently pathetic as it took minimal effort on the Saiyan's part to dodge them. When Gohan grew tired of this- which did not take long- he rushed at the unguarded Cell, dealing him a punch to the abdomen that sent him flying off his feet to the vicinity of a crevice. ~_

_~ Some cheers of support came from the precipice, which Gohan paid no heed to. He simply walked forward as the now unchallenging Cell managed to stand himself up, looking back at the demi-Saiyan with pure terror. Gohan's victory was assured, and now was the time to have some sport with the cruel beast, just like it had done to the innocent. He was going to pay for what he did in his own blood and, eventually, with his own life, but Gohan was going to make sure that did not happen before more suffering was endured by the merciless tyrant. He was going to make him endure so much anguish, torment and torture that he begged for compassion, just like his victims did- and then Gohan would give him what he gave those people: ~_

_~ A slow and agonizing death. ~_

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Short, quick, and to the point. Are you guys hating this dream? Loving it? Wish it would end? Love my novelization? You know what to do...

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Of Blood and Loss

Greetings. Here is the next chapter, that actually contains a plot advancement! A comment that I received showed a lack of interest in the novelization in the previous chapter. I'll be honest, I got a little disheartened at it, but now that I look at it again I think I need to extend a formal thank-you to a "Nami" who gave me that advice. The next story I write, I will be sure to revise or not include trivial filler-like scenes (Although, we have one or two more in this story that I feel are necessary. You're going to have to suffer through them.) and focus on the plot. There's some more advice that I can learn from! I hope to see some more.

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

Gohan awoke slowly this time: a few minutes in which he questioned whether anything was real, including his own existence. Eventually, though, he realized that he was awake, and remembered his dream. It was not going to go unnoticed this time- it _definitely_ had some meaning. He sat upright, and stared hard into space as he thought about its context.

_But… what could it mean? Why was I the one fighting instead of Father? And I… I was a Super Saiyan! I… I never even imagined such a thing… or have I? Maybe I have thought about that before… before I forgot. That's probably why I was one. But that doesn't explain why I disobeyed Father… he seemed so desperate, and still I ignored him-! This dream… it was so familiar… I probably have had it many times before. Maybe… _Gohan suddenly thought of the vision and his seemingly disturbing actions after awaking from a nightmare, _Maybe I've seen it so many times that… that it drove me insane. It… it must have. Why else would a simple dream cause me so much grief? _

He thought slowly about that matter for a long while.

…_I am going to be condemned to live a life were I fear even dreams- figments of my imagination. I must have done something truly awful, if fate hates me so much as to make me fear the fear before I even experience it. I wonder how I even managed to live… if I am this afraid already, before I even experience the real thing._

Gohan's eyes slided to the desk-side drawer.

…_I wonder if my actions actually had some rational sense behind them. _

He once again approached the desk, sitting down into its well-worn chair. He- much more nonchalantly this time- opened the drawer and pulled out, not the portrait, but the item enfolded in the red cloth. He laid it down on the desk and very gingerly unwrapped the cloth, revealing the very same dagger that he saw before. The cutting edge was clean, for all of the stolen, adulterated crimson had passed to the cloth. Even in the half-darkness, the sterling blade gave off an eerie and bright shine, reflecting light that was not present. Gohan held the blade up to his face, examining it, and turning it over in his hands. The hilt was short, smooth, and solid- nothing could be seen through it or mirrored off of its bronze exterior. This was very different compared to the sleek, stainless blade. When he looked at it, he could see eyes reflected back at him.

Glistening, shimmering, lustrous teal eyes.

He dropped the blade as soon as he saw the image- and it fell to the desk in a clattering mess of noise, which he did not appear to notice. Instead, his mind was frozen on the reflection. He immediately came to the conclusion that those were _not_ his eyes, and it didn't take him long to take a guess at whose they were.

_Father._

He would never forget those eyes: so cold, unsympathetic, serious. The image was burnt into his mind, and no measure of amnesia would allow him to forget those eyes. Ever. But soon, he thought of how absurd the thought was- why would a blade have the reflection of his father's eyes? It was ridiculous- another trick his mind was playing on him. There was a reason for why the eyes in the reflection appeared to have the teal hue. He knew some perfectly legitimate reasons too, but nevertheless he was not able to fully accept them, for somewhere he knew there was more to the reflection than he wanted to know.

Gohan gathered his wits, rubbing his shoulders in self comfort and causing his sleeves to roll up his arm. He then again picked up the hastily dropped dagger. There it was- the odd sense of appropriateness, the feeling that the next action he made could not be wrong: whatever he chose was correct, no matter what. It was like a blanket of reassurance and confidence suddenly settled on him, lightening the massively heavy weight of his life by a small amount. It was an intoxicating feeling, for Gohan even felt his shoulders relax a small amount by instinct, his arms coming to rest face-up with the scars now uncovered and exposed. They no longer caused any shock to him- now he was acceptive of their presence: it was like they were a part of him, so much that he now could not imagine life without them.

Normally, he was ashamed of them and their entire existence: he wore long sleeves everywhere he could, even outside despite the increasingly warm weather, and kept his arms as well hidden as he could, whether that would be folded tight into his chest or behind his back. Now, though, he was oddly at ease with them- neither proud nor ashamed of them. He didn't care that they were out in the open, in plain sight and visible to anyone who wanted to see them. To him, they now appeared as something that was simply a part of life- as natural as the heart in his chest and the breath in his lungs. He calmly turned the dagger over repeatedly in his hands, pondering a little on the subject with a sedated mind. He finally came to a conclusion, and wordlessly grasped the blade firmly in his right hand, holding his left arm extended and facing upwards. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself, having no regrets as he lowered the blade's edge to the bare skin. He was only a millimetre away from his arm when he suddenly stopped. It was not because he was having second thoughts, but because of a faint noise that he heard- an exhale from directly outside of his door. He looked at the door in time to see the handle turning ever so slightly, almost in slow motion.

In a blur of moving arms, Gohan re-wrapped the dagger, and replaced it into the drawer, which he closed. Then, without delay, tore open another drawer with one hand and pulled out the first book he could find, without caring which one it was. That drawer was shut hurriedly as well, while his other hand rushed to push down his rolled sleeves, and then opened the book to the first page he came to, and put on a face that made it appear that he was studying the contents of the book meticulously. This was just in time, for his mother walked in not a moment later.

"I thought I heard something… quite a loud clatter," she said, before she saw her son studying intently, and smiled contentedly, "I guess it was nothing."

She approached him slowly and laboriously, her stomach now starting to become a hindrance.

"Ah…" she said to address him, placing her hand on his shoulder, "There's my good boy- you are surely going to become a great scholar one day!

She placed her hand on his head this time, giving it an approving brush. Her position above of her son's bowed and supposedly reading head made it impossible to see the annoyed and fed up expression on his face. She turned away from Gohan and walked to the door, where she paused before she left.

"Be sure to finish up and get changed soon- breakfast is ready!" She cheerfully added. She then turned around, and exited completely, shutting the door behind her. Gohan gave an inaudible scoff as he closed the book- which was on physics- and put it back in its appropriate place.

_She is really observant, isn't she? I've… I've been doing this for obviously a large time, and she hasn't noticed once…_

…_or has she? Maybe she knows, and just chooses to ignore it. Why wouldn't she? It's less trouble, after all. Out of sight, out of mind… and then she doesn't have to do anything- one less thing to do and less work for her. That's how it is. She wouldn't bother with me… I'm obviously just a part of life to her- one she does not enjoy and wishes didn't exist. _

He diffidently and resentfully consented with his mother's orders, and pulled off the unkempt clothes he was wearing for the last day and night, and put on new ones. This time, they were black- far too much black: another long-sleeved shirt, black with no pattern or anything to break the bleakness, and pants of the same design. They were far too loose, as they hung off of his body with no shape whatsoever, making the sight far from attractive. But what did he care? Looks were not important to him- they didn't matter.

Little did anymore.

He eventually dragged himself to the kitchen, and looked uninterestedly at the mountains of food placed on the table. His dreary gaze met his mother's, who was attempting to cheer him up by giving him a broad smile. As he looked at her, he was about to put a fake smile on to please her, but didn't. He didn't care anymore if his mother knew what he felt like. After she did, she would either try to help him or- _more likely_- do nothing. Either way, though, she wouldn't be of any help.

"I'm not hungry," his monotone voice whispered, his mouth barely moving as he uttered the phrase. Chi-chi opened her mouth to protest, but delayed herself as she considered whether or not that was a good idea. This gave Gohan enough time as to escape back to the haven of his room. He didn't even know why he bothered to leave in the first place- it wasn't like his mother was going to worry or care about him.

He closed the door behind him and walked to the far side of his room. He idly looked at a set of shelves mainly containing books, but there was a picture present as well. He lifted it up to his face to get a better look at it. It was somewhat out-of-date, but not to the amnesiac Saiyan. In fact, it seemed that it was taken just recently to him: only a week or so ago. It was photographed at the Capsule Corporation, and was a large portrait of everyone- even the far from amused Vegeta and Piccolo. Gohan found himself almost immediately, standing next to his father near the middle of the massive huddle, wearing his Piccolo-styled outfit and a wide smile. How welcoming it all appeared, and how untroubled, carefree and unconcerned they all were.

_Why couldn't it still be like that?_

Gohan brought the photo down from his face, but his gaze never left it. At first, his head hung off his shoulders in self-pity, grieving the loss of his carefree childhood. Afterwards, though, he realized just how idiotic that was. He grew irritated at his own miserable and wretched thoughts, and soon his anguish was changed from sorrow to anger. He was envious- _other people could live infinitely happy lives, but not me! No, I was given a life with everything unpleasant and lacking anything that is worth living for!_

His thoughts turned savage again, and he grew so aggravated that in his blind fury, he lost some control of himself, and his hands crushed the picture, frame and all. The glass shattered, and fell to the floor not before slicing across his hands. Blood seeped and fell to the floor along with the fragmented glass, but was ignored completely by Gohan.

"Argh!" He growled aloud. He paced back and forth in his room, unaware or perhaps uncaring of crunching over the glass, the shards puncturing into his bare feet and creating more bloodshed in his room. He bowed his head, eyes closed, and ran his bloody hands through his hair, giving a red highlight to the unknown-to-him golden locks. He held his arms tight against the back of his neck and continued to give himself more reasons to hate his life. He did not continue to pace, though, for his thoughts were far too brutal to keep all of the rage bottled up inside of him.

There were a few uncontrolled, spasmodic moments where his internal fury was transferred into an exterior motion- sometimes his blood-streaked hand would fly out to meet the pale white wall, staining it with a red palm print and causing the entire house to groan and rumble in disapproval of such abuse. Other times, the motion was not even physical: his aura would involuntary flare out for a moment and send whatever unfortunate item happened to be nearest hurtling away to the nearest wall, where it would shatter upon impact. Little by little, he was tearing his room apart, whether he wanted to or not.

Not that he cared.

He was continuing on his blind rampage for only a short while, when he realized just how foolish he was being, causing so much noise that would be heard and soon investigated by his mother- another idiotic move by him. After he managed to partially calm himself in both mind and body, his attention was brought to a possible method of relief, where he would be able to find sanctuary in his actions just as he did before.

He trod lightly to his desk, the floor now mirroring the walls as it too was stained red, this time by small footprints. He did not sit down, though- instead, he reached directly for the drawer and pulled the dagger out, allowing the red cloth to slip off of it and back into the drawer as he did so. He held it loosely in his hand, and never took his gaze off of it as he heard his mother call from the kitchen.

"Gohan?" She called in a half shout, almost apprehensively, "Are… you alright?"

Gohan cringed as he heard the words- _obviously lies._

_She hesitated._

_She doesn't really care._

Gohan said nothing in reply. Instead, he walked over to his closed door and grasped the first pewter handle, making sure the door was completely shut. Then, he reached for a second knob, only this one being rusted from lack of use. He turned it right, where it slid into place after a creak signified the tumblers' movement. Still gazing at the dagger in his hand, he turned around so his back was facing the door. He heard his mother speak again, her voice now closer and approaching him.

"G-Gohan? Are you there?"

_She stuttered._

_She doesn't actually care._

He walked across the room, where his window caught his attention. Outside, the sun was shining light across the green fields. There were large, ominous and looming clouds far off in the horizon, but that didn't stop the intense sun from shining a blinding light across the landscape. It was all bright.

_Too bright. _

Gohan drew his curtains back, and blocked out the harsh light from his room. The fabric was translucent, though, and some of the rays still shone through the thin material, bathing the room in a faint light that made it only barely possible to see. The entire room was given an eerie luminosity. It was welcoming too, though, for it had a somewhat celestial radiance- something that seemed to be of a higher significance than this world.

Gohan sat down on the window sill. Beams of the dim light cast on the curtain through the glass made it appear to be covered in a thin film of water, with an unknown disturbance causing ripples to drift across the fabric, unhindered for they serenely floated across the entire surface. He looked expressionlessly down at the dagger as he once again outstretched his arm, rolling up his sleeve. He didn't care when a knock came from his door- he simply shut himself off from the world, making it so that he did not hear anything, or was aware of anything else besides his task.

"Go…Gohan?" Was the last thing he heard.

_She doesn't care. _Was all he told himself.

Chi-chi, outside of the closed door, knocked tenderly again, only to receive the same answer- or rather, lack of an answer. She was hesitant about what to do next: half of her, the concerned mother, told her to go in and see if he was alright, but another part of her said that meddling would only make matters worse. She waged for a moment the consequences of each, but found equally perilous risks for each choice. She finally decided, though, on her gut instinct. She reached out, grabbed the handle, and walked forward as she turned it, only to find herself halting in her tracks as the door failed to move. Her first thought was that she turned the door handle the wrong way, and tried again with the same result. She aggressively rattled the door handle in disgust as she finally realized what was wrong.

The door was locked.

Gohan never locked his door. Never. It was just like that- he had no secrets, nothing to hide. There was never a reason to lock his door, so it never was. This set off alarms for Chi-chi immediately. She was worried for Gohan to begin with- he had been so different since the Cell Games: secluded, cheerless, and uncaring. After his memory lapse, she thought that all of his depressed thoughts would disappear. Now, though, when she thought about it again, this was not assured- his depression could have started earlier, before the Androids arrived. The differences in the events between the actual time of preparing for the Androids and now may have made his depression progress much faster than it did the previous time. The reason did not matter, though- the fact reminded that Gohan was carrying too much despair and sense of hopelessness for anyone to live with.

_He might have realized that._

Chi-chi was now disregarding politeness completely, and trying to get the door to move with every ounce of strength she had. Unfortunately for her, her pregnancy made that amount of strength tremendously smaller than usual. Try as she might, the door remained shut. She became hysterical and frantic, beginning to sob as the door refused to budge. When she realized that it was not going to move, she collapsed to her knees and wept at the recognition that she had no power to stop what was going to happen next. She truly believed that all hope was lost.

That was, until she saw a large shadow cast over her.

* * *

Alright then, I just have one task for you readers out there to make sure you aren't just looking at words here- of course you could just ignore this and continue doing do. I've hidden some irony in here. "Hidden" might be a bit of an exaggeration, though... I think it is pretty obvious. Can you find it? Post it in a comment if you did. I thought it would be fun to have a little scavenger hunt here...

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	20. Chapter Twenty: Crimson and Silver

Ho hum. I thought at least one person would catch the irony in the previous chapter. Ah well- I'll just tell you. Gohan sarcastically said something along the lines of "She's observant, isn't she?", which is quite amusing, in itself, him being sarcastic. But the irony was that he hasn't even noticed his own mother's _pregnancy_. I hope you guys got that- he doesn't know. Or rather, remember.

Anyways, I hope that you guys then are all anxiously awaiting this chapter. It's a good one, I feel.

Chapter Twenty

* * *

Gohan saw the unearthly light reflect off of the blade as he lowered it, simultaneously casting a ribbon of light across his face. His face brightened- in more ways than one- and once again he had no regrets as the blade made contact with his fragile skin. He expected pain, and as silver turned to red, it came, but it was not the pain Gohan expected to receive from what seemed to be such a cleansing action.

It was far better.

The sting was sharp and cold, like that of an arctic winter's icy wind against his bare arm. That only lasted for the amount of time that the blade was touching his arm- after it was removed, a new sensation came to the inch-long incision. A duller, throbbing and significantly warmer ache came from the slit as endless crimson streamed from it. It was comforting- the pain was dull, but far from ignorable, and soon his worries flowed away from him with the blood, as his consciousness only had room for the pain. That was all that there was, all that existed, all that mattered. His mind floated, light now as it had no worries, no cares, no thoughts.

His perception of the world was almost cut off completely when with the sliver of realization he had left, he felt someone's power level flare slightly. Automatically, he stood and faced the direction of the power- his doorway. It seemed that he acted too quickly, since for a split second he was looking at nothing. Then, the door was tore from its hinges with a large crack, causing the demi-Saiyan to instantaneously fall into his fighting stance- even after he saw who was behind the door.

He glared fiercely at Piccolo, and, seeing that the Namekian wasn't going to leave, remained where he was, making no motion to cover his dagger or arm bleeding onto the floor.

It took only a short moment for Piccolo to find his gaze centred on Gohan's arm- the scarlet blood oozing down it was the only colour on his body, except for his relentless teal eyes and red-streaked golden hair. When the Namekian saw it, his first action was an odd one- he turned around on the spot and sent a quick, precise karate-chop to Chi-chi's neck, knocking her unconscious before she could even see into the room. Gohan could see Piccolo's every movement, but found no shock in Piccolo's action against his mother.

Neither spoke for endless moments, both waiting for the other to act in some way. Piccolo remained in his position above Chi-chi, half-turned and staring at the deeply breathing Saiyan stoically, but not uncompassionately. Gohan remained in his fighting stance, his vicious eyes never leaving their unyielding gaze into the deep black pools of thought that comprised Piccolo's eyes. He was not in the mood for conversations- was he ever?- but this particular one that was about to arise was especially undesirable. He had half a mind to leave- it did not matter where, just any place away from here- but he had something else stop him. An aggressive sense that he could not back down, or else he would ultimately fail at everything he had to live for in life. His unusually zealous and ardent Saiyan side was gaining control of his mindset- and it considered this a matter of pride. At that moment, Gohan was prepared to fight for his dignity to his last breath- even if his opponent was Piccolo.

When it became obvious that neither were going to comply many long minutes later, Gohan took it upon himself to deal with the situation.

"I would be very appreciative if you would kindly leave me alone, Piccolo," he articulated, not even leaving his fighting stance as he spoke the words in the insensitive tone his voice was currently finding so appealing. Piccolo gave a scoff of disbelief without even thinking, which caused no visible reaction from the half-Saiyan, but in reality it crushed his last waning sense of trust with the Namekian.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. We to talk about some matters that I think are of concern-"

"There are no matters that concern _you_, Piccolo," Gohan replied before the comment was even finished, "I suggest that you keep your focus on the problems in which you are directly involved."

Piccolo was through with being subtle.

"Gohan, drop the act. You were taught better than this! There is obviously something wrong, for you to do something so senseless."

That was definitely the wrong choice of words. Gohan's half-bowed head snapped to the side in anger as Piccolo said the last word.

"Senseless?!" He repeated aloud, spitting the word from his mouth with such aggravation that it was almost as if it had a foul taste on his tongue, "You can't possibly understand what I'm going through! You don't think I know?! You... all of you… you're all lying to me! I know that there is a great deal of things that I can't remember- but I know enough that there is little to nothing pleasant in my life! This… this is the only way I can get away from it all… the only way I can be at ease now… and you call it _senseless_?! No wonder I didn't get help from you- you have no understanding of what I have to survive with! I'm alone to the very end! Ev-even when I asked for your help, you denied it! You-you don't care! You're… you're just trying to gain my trust, so that you can leave me alone when I need your help, a-and watch me wander around hopelessly, suffering… and enjoy every minute of it!"

Piccolo was stunned for a moment- his mind not complying with the order to be aware of what the young Saiyan was saying. He snapped quickly out of his daze, deciding that since he started off harsh, he would have to follow through with it.

"Think about what you're saying! I'm through with being polite, Gohan- I'll be blunt. There is something mentally _wrong_ with you. You seem to have this frame of mind that makes you think that everyone and everything in the world is against you! You can't help it- and it is far from likely that you will be able to accept the truth."

Gohan tightened his fists- one of which was still holding the dagger, even in his fighting stance. He gave a half-suppressed growl, and Piccolo could immediately see that he was getting irritated. He did _not_ want Gohan to get angry- that must be avoided at all costs.

"I have a hard time accepting something that is not true, Piccolo! I know that you have been lying to me all this time- what is stopping you from doing the same thing now? I have been such a trusting, naïve person my whole life, gullible enough to take everything I hear as the truth. Now, my eyes have been opened to reality- where it is possible that everything I have been told is a complete and utter lie. It is impossible to trust anyone anymore- how do I decipher the truth from the lies? It's useless. I have become aware of that."

Gohan shut his eyes, finally standing upright and out of the fighting stance. This speech was sounding far too familiar for Piccolo's liking. He watched Gohan eye the dagger he twirled around in his hand, a peculiarly calm face in deep thought about something for a moment, before he seemed to make a decision. He gave a sigh of nothing short of relief, and his face seemed to loose all of its worry. Piccolo gazed at Gohan in pure terror as he recognized that look.

"No…" He said in a half-whisper. The demi-Saiyan looked up, and when they made eye contact he flashed a quick, conniving and chilling smile at him. He took a slow step backwards, almost testing to see what Piccolo was planning to do. The Namekian did not move an inch out of pure horror. Gohan felt empowered again. He knew what he was able to do, right there and then. He could end it all- the suffering, the torment, the lies, the distrust, the sneaking, the anguish. Gohan smiled at the thought- the same unsettling smile Piccolo had burnt into his memory for all of eternity. He kept silent as he backed away another step, the blade sparkling reflected light as he brought it to his own throat.

"G-Gohan… no…!" Piccolo beseeched, his legs failing to move out of panic as he wanted to grab the young Saiyan before he could do something he would regret, "No… not again!"

This caught Gohan's attention immediately.

"Again?" He said, as if the word were foreign and needed to be repeated before its meaning could be understood, "You mean… I…" He lowered the blade slightly as he thought about what that statement meant. Piccolo felt the shock wear off as he managed to take a step forward towards the pensive Saiyan.

"Gohan, you… you already…" he started, but failed to finish while taking another step forward. He was now in arms' length of Gohan, and the demi-Saiyan was snapped out of his thought as he saw his proximity. He raised the blade to his neck again, taking another defensive step backwards, only to find himself backed into a wall.

"Look, I don't care! Wh-whatever I did before doesn't matter! J-just let me go! I can't take a-any more of this!" He swallowed hard as he pressed the blade tighter against his skin with shaking hands. Piccolo saw a shard of hope- Gohan wasn't resolute with his choice; he was having second thoughts.

"Stop and think for a moment," Piccolo asked less aggressively, trying to make it seem more like a request than a demand, "Do you really want to go through with this? You don't know what will happen… or if anything will be achieved."

Gohan was listening to this, and his hand was slowly dropping from his throat again. It was only lowered for a moment though before he raised it again.

"D-don't try to fool me! You're… you're trying to tr-trick me!" He accused, his hand shaking even more.

"But Gohan… think about what you'll leave behind… what you could have done… what you _still_ can do…" Piccolo's voice came out softly and comfortingly. The blade slowly lowered again, like Gohan was in a trance.

_Piccolo's voice… it's so… nice…_

Gohan shook himself from the hypnosis-like state.

"St-stop it! Get out of my head! You… you're lying!"

Piccolo was growing impatient.

"Think! What would your mother feel like? And Krillin? And all of your other friends? They wouldn't want this!" Gohan was starting to tremble, withholding sobs of confusion. Piccolo was so close… he only needed one more thing. Piccolo knew what would work, but it Gohan ever found out the truth, he would be worse off than before. Piccolo decided to take the gamble, inhaled, and continued, "What would your father say? What _will_ he think?"

The demi-Saiyan's hand was shaking so terribly that he nicked the side of his neck from all of the movement, and a small amount of blood trickled down his neck, matching his hands, arms, thighs, feet, and hair. Whether from Piccolo's comment or because of the accidental slice, Gohan dropped the blade and collapsed onto his knees just the same. He was unmoving and emotionless for a moment, and Piccolo took that opportunity to pick up the dagger and toss it out the window without even thinking. The young Saiyan did not appear to notice, as his eyes were set in a blank stare, gazing off into space. He was miraculously managing to remain composed, but obviously with much difficulty as he was shivering from the effort.

Piccolo turned around and was about to kneel down to comfort Gohan, but had no time to do so as the demi-Saiyan got up and tried to leave for the door in a somewhat pitiable scamper. The Namekian, though, had no intentions of letting him go off on his own just yet. He grabbed Gohan by his shoulder, and that coupled with the momentum gained from the spontaneous dash caused him to be spun around on the spot and meet face-to-face with his mentor. He looked away as Piccolo put both of his arms on the ostensibly frail shoulders of his pupil.

"Gohan, don't go off just yet…" He began, and waited for some reply from the still quivering Saiyan. When it did come, it was the faintest of whispers and probably Piccolo was the only one capable of hearing it.

"Leave me alone."

"Look, I know that you are finding this situation really hard, but you need to understand that if we just told you what has happened, that it won't be the same as you getting your memories back. You will just be trying to accept things that… that you will find hard to accept unless you actually remember them happening. We just need to wait for them to come back…"

"Leave me alone."

Gohan did not appear to be listening, for his head was still turned spitefully away from the Namekian's view, but Piccolo continued on anyway, optimistic that some part of him was paying attention.

"It is in your best interest that we don't tell you what you have forgotten. It would be far worse to remember it that way," Piccolo explained, thinking what he was not telling.

_You would have to lose your father all over again, and once again place all of the blame on yourself. I won't let you make the same mistake again._

Gohan's patience was running thinner by the moment.

"Leave me alone," he repeated another time, this time his teeth gritting in aggravation.

"Gohan, listen to me-" Piccolo began, not fully realizing that he ignored Gohan yet again. Gohan, on the other hand, made sure that Piccolo did not miss that point another time.

"No! You listen! I said leave me alone!" He interjected, courtesy long forgotten. He pulled away from Piccolo, but the Namekian reclaimed his grip, this time grabbing his shoulder from the back, out of fear of what the half-Saiyan would do as soon as he was alone. He never took into account, though, what would do when he was refused the request to let him be.

"Let me _go_!" He shouted, vehemence echoing in his voice. His aura became visible again, flaring outwards frenziedly, and uncontrolled by the young Saiyan- he never was in control with these sporadic moments when he had a loss of control over himself due to his rampant emotions. Piccolo was taken aback with this turn of events, and was unable to decide what to do- he knew what his options were, and either could end disastrously. If he let Gohan go, he would not explode in a fit of rage, but it was possible that he would look for a way out of his misery again. He knew that the absence of his dagger would not stop him from doing so if he was determined.

In contrast, if he kept Gohan where he was, there was a chance that he would become so aggravated that he would explode from the fury- and possibly wipe the surrounding area off the face of the planet. Not to mention that he would hate Piccolo with every fibre of his being- possibly forever. In reality, Piccolo was afraid of that more than the thought of dying in an immense explosion. With that realization, though, the Namekian realised that the decision was obvious when he put his selfish fear aside.

He did not release his grip- instead he brought his arm across the demi-Saiyan's chest and pulled him into a tighter hold. He felt Gohan's anger rise as he did this, accompanied by a far from ineffective attempt at breaking free from the unwanted grasp. Piccolo thought about trying to talk the anger out of Gohan, but thought about how unsuccessful his last attempt was, and decided against that course of action. He knew that he was going to have to wait it out.

The first ten or so minutes were by far the worst- Gohan's passionate shouts of hatred and dissent were almost as painful to Piccolo as the burning sensation that the Saiyan's scorching energy gave his skin.

Almost.

It was at ten minutes that the struggle peaked- it did not come close to his full power, but it was far from something to scoff at- and he began to turn more tearful than irritated. His yells of resentment turned into deplorable sobs, and he spoke less and less, until he fell completely silent aside from his crying. He did not give up his attempt to escape until about half an hour after the confrontation began. When he finally did, his entire body fell still, apart from the quavering of his knees as they finally failed him and he- along with Piccolo- fell to the ground, where even his sobs became quiet.

This came as much relief to Piccolo, for presently he felt like his entire body could fall apart at the seams at any moment. Gohan was still ahead of him, kneeling on the ground and remaining very outwardly blank again. The Namekian knew that he had long overstayed his welcome, and that only harm would come out of him staying any longer. He was sad to admit, though, that his confidence in Gohan was completely crushed, and that he was not willing to trust him with his own life just yet.

_How do I leave him by himself without leaving him alone?_

He already knew the solution as he asked himself this, but he wished that there was a less cruel answer to the dilemma. Wishes, though, were far from reliable things. Piccolo knew that far too well as he helped up the compliant half-Saiyan, and walked him over to his bed where the silent being immediately welcomed the comfort of his blankets and sheets by laying down facing the outside wall and away from Piccolo. He curled up into a very defensive position, and seemed- or tried- to be oblivious to the presence of his mentor. Piccolo outstretched his arm, and aimed it at Gohan's left ankle, sending a thin, pale blue beam of energy towards it from his index finger. The beam instantly encompassed around the young Saiyan's ankle, and Piccolo turned his attention to the interior wall, one of the only things that was still upright in the room, albeit it was littered with holes. Piccolo released another pallid beam, only this time it disappeared as it made contact with the wall, essentially travelling through it to another destination. After he finished his mysterious task, he walked to the doorway and picked up the still unconscious Chi-chi. He gave another glance to the soundless Saiyan, who was still turned away from him.

"Gohan… I'm sorry…" Piccolo whispered with his relaxed and tranquil voice before he left the room. Gohan did not make a noise afterwards, nor did he move from his spot on his bed. Instead, he slightly raised his left leg to get a better look at the peculiar ritual done to him. He was only able to raise it slightly until the inconstant blue ring that surrounded it became solid, and a fluctuating beam of the same blue shot out from it and ran to the wall, where it most definitely continued on to another location. He was tied to something, and whatever that something was made it nearly impossible for him to move. Whether because the bond was too strong, the anchor he was attached to was too heavy, or a combination of the two, he still found it impossible to manoeuvre off of his mattress, although he could move atop it relatively easy.

Gohan did not know what to think. When he did think, his thoughts were neither clear nor sensible, and caused him nothing more than additional confusion- confusion piled with the confusion of everything else. First, the odd behaviour of his friends, then the cuts on his arms, then the spontaneous hallucinations, then the strange dreams, then the lies, then the emptiness, then the misery, then the pain, and now there was even more. It was all too much- he didn't want to think about it all, for it just caused him more suffering. Alas, he no longer was capable of giving his mind the consolation it so desperately wanted. It was impossible not to think about it- everything- and it was all too much. It was overwhelming, and there was no relief when Gohan wept in the solitude of his empty room again.

There were no attempts to quieten his cries this time- Piccolo and his mother both knew about his condition. His tears were going to be obvious to them, and there was no doubt in his mind that they were going to be ignored by them as well. He cried and cried, without stop, until his entire body was weak and frail from exhaustion. His breaths were hollow and pained, each inhalation receiving a corresponding whimper from the tenderness. Unfortunately for him, the lack of nourishment in each breath made it so that he took far more breaths than usual, and it caused him far too much unnecessary pain. Every inch of his body ached with the same tiredness, and that tiredness only piled atop itself as the hours passed by agonizingly slow, each minute filled only with empty distress.

For some time, he attempted to keep his attention outwards, away from his thoughts and actions, but the condition of his room only distressed him more: all of the destruction- his hatred, anger, rage; and all of the blood- his pain, suffering, anguish. The room haunted him to the farthest corners of his mind; even when he finally could not take any more and closed his eyes to shut out the scene he still was haunted by the images that lingered fresh in his memory. The only way to rid them from his awareness was to think of something else, but his mind had no reassuring thoughts left. Like a cruel ultimatum given to him by the fates, he was faced with a decision- either lay in agony while viewing the consequences of his actions, or lay in agony while reflecting and- in essence- reliving the horrific events that his life seemed to be comprised only of. It was a devastatingly clear concept, and Gohan found it far too easy to accept his only options.

It was not that he was happy to accept it- far from it- but the words that Piccolo spoke earlier were true. At that moment, he truly believed that happiness did not exist in his life- and it never would again. He came to an acceptance that his world now revolved around four emotions- Sorrow, Fear, Pain, and Anger. If it did not fall under one of those categories, he was not capable of experiencing it. After hours upon hours of shifting between the two options, and never ceasing his tear-filled suffering, he finally succumbed to his weariness and fell into the desolate realm of slumber, his eyes frozen shut as his sleeping body continued to involuntarily release half-hearted sobs. It was not the first time he cried himself to sleep- and had he been awake to think, he would have been certain that it was not going to be the last time either.

* * *

Oh man. That was a gigantic passage at the end, wasn't it? I adore writing the metaphysical passages, though, if you couldn't already tell.

Alright, something else for you guys to look for- did you have a favourite scene/sentence/image in this chapter? You're all free to tell me in a comment if you are feeling particularly generous. I'll do so for you: my favourite image is the "quick, conniving and chilling smile" that Gohan gave to Piccolo. That image just makes me grin mischievously myself.

My favourite word from here would be _vehemence_. Just say it- it sounds awesome. Use it in your everyday language- that sounds even better. Just make sure you know what it means first.

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: La Rêve, Partie Trois

Wow. We're almost done here. I bet you're excited! Let's not delay!

Chapter Twenty-one

_

* * *

~ Gohan made sure to walk a slowly as he could, for he knew that it caused Cell to fill with terror- and that's exactly what he wanted. The heartless beast should be forced to endure the same cruel fate that he gave far too many innocents. Cell, just as expected, trembled in cowardice of the Saiyan. ~_

_~ "Stay away from me, you monster!" He blubbered nasally. He took a step back in fear, but did not realize his proximity to the chasm. The unstable edge broke beneath his foot, and the beast fell, but he managed to cling to the cliff with one hand. Gohan finally arrived, and placed his foot on top of the monster's scaly green hand. He decided to give the brute another chance to spare himself pain- if he agreed he would make his death as quick as possible. ~_

_~ "Give up… or fall." Gohan offered. Cell reached his other hand for the edge of the cliff, and Gohan took this as his reply. He removed his foot from the fiend's hand, and replaced it on his face. He put his weight on the foot, pushing Cell and causing him to fall off, down the seemingly bottomless chasm. This put so much terror into Cell that, initially, he forgot that he possessed the ability to fly, and continued to fall while giving a panic-filled scream. Gohan paused before he turned his back for a moment. Only a moment, though, then he sensed the presence of Cell behind him, and dealt the brute a knee to the stomach. The green being was sent hurtling away, and crashed into a nearby rock formation. Cell, with much difficulty, managed to stand himself up, only to see Gohan once again walking unhurriedly towards him. He stopped a few feet away, and debated whether or not he had knocked some sense into the beast. ~_

_~ "I'll get you for this, boy, I swear I will!" It pledged, though there was nothing that suggested that it was ready to fulfil this promise. Gohan settled that he should give the beast one last chance to save himself so much unnecessary pain. ~_

_~ "Cell, give up. You aren't going to beat me," he attested. ~_

_~ This time, the shout that came from the cliff was loud enough to be heard, and its message was clear. ~_

_~ "NOW GOHAN! END IT RIGHT NOW! THERE'S NO TIME TO WASTE- GET HIM, GOHAN!" Goku yelled at full volume, so that both Gohan and Cell were able to hear it. In response to the request, Gohan began to gradually walk the last few feet between him and the fear-stricken monster. He was going to finish him off alright- but he was going to drag it out for as long as possible. Cell saw the pitiless teal eyes staring hard at him, and knew what was in store for him. ~_

_~ He trembled in horror. ~_

_~ "No- stay back!" he warned, but Gohan did not stop. Cell was in full-blown panic- and as such, decided on a fatal course of action. He shouted at the top of his lungs. He appeared to be powering up, as the energy he was releasing sent clouds of dust flying at not only Gohan's face, but at the faces of the bystanders on the precipice. Gohan attentively stared as the grotesque green face began to bloat, some unseen force pulling and stretching his cheeks, then his forehead, and then his eyes. After his face was swelled to far beyond its comfort, his entire body began to inflate in a manner comparable to that of a balloon. Some inaudible things were said on the cliff, accompanied by another loud shout from Goku. ~_

_~ "RUN GOHAN!" ~_

_~ Instead of obeying, Gohan remained where he was, and looked at the still 'pumping up' Cell. ~_

_~ "Ha ha ha ha! Boy, this is the end for you! You thought that you could beat me, but you can't! Ha ha! I'm going to blow myself up now- and I'm going to take you with me! Say good-bye to your precious planet!" He threatened, finding the thought quite amusing as he kept laughing, despite the morbidity of the situation. ~_

_~ "No! Don't!" Gohan implored. Cell heard the distress in his voice, and began to laugh again. ~_

_~ "You lose, little man! I'm going to destroy this planet!" He chortled. Gohan growled in disgust, and slipped into his fighting stance before the humongous monster. ~_

_~ "No you won't!" He retorted, the energy still being discharged by Cell whipping his hair across his face. Cell, though, raised his hands in warning. ~_

_~ "Watch out! You might make me explode! You don't want to make me upset- one little shock might set me off! Then it's "bye-bye!" Gohan, "bye-bye!" Goku, and "so long!" Earth!" Cell cautioned. ~_

_~ Gohan realized that he was not lying- the energy that was escaping from Cell was so huge that the energy he was collecting must be monumental. Gohan growled between gritted teeth, clenching his fists hard as he attempted to come up with a plan. His mind raced, but failed to think of a way to stop Cell without setting off the bomb of energy. ~_

_~ "Ha ha ha ha… one minute, boy, and then it will all be over! Ha ha ha!" Cell announced, still finding the circumstances oddly hilarious. Many terror-filled exclamations came from the witnesses on the cliff, realizing that they were helpless to stop the disaster. The final seconds passed by far too quickly. ~_

_~ "Ah… forty more seconds left!" Cell declared. Gohan ultimately became conscious of the fact that he unable to defeat Cell now. He had the opportunity to finish him off, but decided instead to make him suffer. The entire planet was going to pay for his mistake. ~_

_~ 'Dad was right- I should have destroyed Cell when I had the chance! I let my powers go to my head!' __He realized in his thoughts._

_~ "I could have destroyed Cell! Now there's nothing I can do… I've failed," he finished aloud. He fell to his knees, and stared hopelessly at the ground, "What have I done…?!" ~_

_~ He grunted in frustration, pounding the earth with his fists so hard that the ground ruptured from the force. ~_

_~ "I've been a fool! I let Cell win __**again**__!" ~_

_~ The entire planet began to quake, and an unearthly red light began to emanate from it. Cell was still laughing maniacally as he saw this. ~_

_~ "Ten more seconds, and the Earth will be gone! I guess we'll call the game a draw." Cell gave another laugh, but was silenced as a heart-wrenching shout came from Krillin. This caught both Cell and the collapsed Gohan's attention, and even more startling was when Goku appeared between the two, his middle and index finger of his right hand placed on his forehead. He gave a devious-looking smile to Cell as he placed his left hand on the beast's protruding body. Cell gave a few panicked grunts in confusion of what was happening. Goku turned to his son and a more sincere smile shone across his bright face. ~_

_~ "Hey… you put up a good fight, Gohan. I'm proud of you." He spoke with a serene voice. Gohan stared in disbelief, not truly understanding what was happening. ~_

_~ "Wh-what? Daddy?" He managed to stammer out. ~_

_~ "Take care of your mother for me. She needs you," Goku continued. During those moments, all that existed was the Father and Son, "Tell her that I had to do this, Gohan." ~_

_~ It finally dawned onto the half-Saiyan as to what his father was doing, and he made a noise in distress, eyes wide in terror. Goku tilted his head down and smiled even larger. ~_

_~ "Good-bye, my son." ~_

_~ With that statement, the smile vanished from his face and he stared firmly at his fingers. Cell gave some more grunts of terror. ~_

_~ "No! Don't!" the beast begged pathetically. ~_

_~ Gohan immediately stood, and ran to where his father was standing. By the time that he got there, though, his father vanished completely and instead was met by a sudden, forceful and commanding blast of wind that forced him to shelter his eyes for a moment. ~_

_~ "NO! COME BACK!" He plead, the wind stealing his voice away. Krillin shouted as well, but to the same effect as the bustling air carried the cry away before it reached its destination. Everyone was focused on the two energy levels- one filled with malice and hatred, the other benevolent and pure. Gohan clung to this signal, holding it as close to himself as possible. He embraced it, but felt its welcoming comfort slipping away. He pressed it closer, closer, until he could even feel the hero's warm breath exhaled, and his father's heartbeat against his own, in harmony and unison with one another. Then, like the wind did with his voice, he felt the energy signal snatched away from him, the vigorous heartbeat silenced, and the protective warmth extinguished like a flame. ~ _

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ Forever. ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ Gohan fell to his knees again. He involuntarily let his mouth agape, and a few heart-broken stutters escaped from his mouth. He stared at the spot where his father once stood, just a few moments before. Only a few seconds ago, he was there: living, breathing; close enough to touch, hold, embrace. His body began to tremble as he felt searing tears prickle his trembling skin. His body felt numb, weak, faint, and he had no resolution left to stop the tears from streaming from his eyes, rolling down his cheek, and falling to the cold, hard, cruel, inclement ground. ~_

_~ "DADDY!" He cried with the last of his strength. His call echoed across the barren, empty, desolate, void, abandoned wasteland. _

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ . ~_

_~ No response came. ~_

_~ . ~_

_

* * *

_

I guess this was a little pointless, maybe... but extremely amazing to write! For me, at least. Just grin and bear it, otherwise. This is the final part of this little flashback/dream/whatever you'd like to call it. Anticipate the next segment greatly!

Did any of you catch the foreshadowing I put to this chapter in the earlier ones? *Hint* It was during the little episode with King Yemma and Goku in Otherworld. I'd love to hear from you guys on whether or not you did. I am trying hard to put these literature-enhancing devices in my works, but it is up to you to decide whether or not I have succeeded. But above all, enjoy the works!

Until next time, Warriors!!!!


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo: Deluge

I was a little anxious for this next one, because I kind of want to meet a deadline. So... I posted it earlier than usual. Enjoy the gift!

Chapter Twenty-two

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Gohan's eyes shot awake as a deafening thunderclap rang through his ears, mercifully releasing him from his dream's clutches. His own cry echoed in his mind without end, the agony in his voice as clear as the lightning that set his room alight with an overpowering flash of yellow for a moment, before the room returned to its uninviting darkness. The demi-Saiyan remained petrified on his side, too shocked to even think for a sacred, brief, merciful moment. After a significantly quieter rumble came from outside, he finally arduously sat himself upright, the band surrounding his ankle still giving him limited movement. He brought his knees tight against his chest again, the breeze from his open window causing him to shiver violently. There were a few minutes in which all that occurred was the episodic lightning- followed in increasingly closer proximity by thunder- and his monotonous shivering. He stared off vacantly into space, appearing to be deep in thought, when in reality he was actually attempting to keep his thoughts away from anything and everything. He realized how hopeless this attempt was, but nevertheless he attempted to do so, desperate for some reprieve. It was no more than five minutes before his attention was brought back to the dream that disturbed him so, and only a few moments of thought on it caused him to break down into tears again. He was humiliated by his tears, something vicious in his mind rebuking him for his spinelessness in being so upset by something as simple as a dream. Nonetheless, the dream still shook him to the depths of his soul, all of the ideas and concepts covered in it giving him so much incongruous grief. He let out countless seemingly uncalled for tears, staining his already dark clothes an even darker shade of black to match the now burgundy splotches of blood. His thoughts were now repeating the same message to himself, the only comfort he could give himself at the moment.

_It was just a dream… It was just a dream… Nothing more than a dream…_

He rocked himself back and forth while he kept his face buried into his knees, attempting to provide himself some consolation. His method was, to some extent, effective, for after an immeasurable amount of time, his sobs fell silent, and he was only left with the comforting knowledge that it was all only a dream. He knew that dreams were nothing to be frightened of, for they were not real. That did not, though, help him with the rest of his troubles. He wished that he had something to do that would take his mind off of them too, for he knew devastatingly well that everything in his life was worth forgetting. Instead, though, he was left in the lonely confinement of his room that was once so appealing. He found that cruelly ironic- the room that once seemed like a sanctuary to him was now equal to a prison. That made him think- what did he truly want? That answer was obvious.

He wanted it to end.

All of it- the pain, the lies, the suffering, the deceit, the torment, the loneliness, the confusion- he just wanted it to end, even if that meant the end of everything else in his life.

_Which of course it does, _he thought cynically.

But now, even that option was no longer available. Again, that vicious part of himself came forward and blamed his cowardliness, for he prevented his own escape out of fear- fear of what his father would think. He did not care what his mother and everyone else would have thought- they did not care to begin with. Just his father. When Piccolo mentioned him, Gohan suddenly felt extremely guilty at the thought of leaving his father like that. Now, though, he was even starting to doubt the sincerity of his father. What sort of parent would leave his child alone when he was in such desperate need of support?

_One who does not care about his son._

Doubt was now completely absent from his mind- his father was obviously just like the rest of them: heartless and indifferent to the well-being of his son. When the young Saiyan thought about it, he felt like a fool for ever being so stupidly optimistic in someone. He should have known that he was all alone in the world, and that there was no one who gave a second thought to him, not a single person who would truly be bothered if he vanished from existence. If anything, they would prefer it that way, but they were not going to give him such relief- then they would not get any fun out of watching his suffering. That was the only reason they kept him around, and they did not appear to be ready to release him yet.

Gohan was forced to stay there in his room, completely alone aside from his thoughts- and they caused more harm than comfort. The thoughts- had anyone else been able to hear them- were not fit for that of a twelve-year-old boy. They were not fit for anyone- thoughts so frantic, desperate and filled with sorrow, fear, pain, and anger. Every single thought was unnerving, none failing to unleash pure anguish upon the far too young demi-Saiyan, each coming to the same conclusion that he had nothing worth living for, and that only death would be his liberation from the destiny that was awaiting him. He was certain this time- it was really the only way. Still, he was unable able to give himself this freedom, though, thanks to Piccolo.

_Piccolo._

How that name befouled his mind- not that it was chaste to begin with. Gohan wanted with his entire spirit to never have to come in contact with that wretched being another time. Such a callous, manipulative, and immoral person was nothing that the half-Saiyan ever wanted to deal with again. He knew though, that this desire was not going to come true: fate was far too cruel-humoured to allow him to get anything he wanted.

As those thoughts passed through his mind, almost in response his door clicked open to reveal the detested Namekian, but he received nothing more than a sideways half-glance from the half-Saiyan that lasted only a fraction of a second, but what could be seen for that short moment could be described nothing short of insane loathing. The look was becoming more and more common on his pale face, and it caused Piccolo to fill with so much guilt. His one true, trustworthy friend knew nothing more than hatred for him now- and the only way to change that was to tell him about the events leading up to his father's death, and that was an insensitive way to get out of the situation. He did not want Gohan to have to lose his father another time.

"You know what today is…" Piccolo started, not really expecting a response, and being past surprised when he received one because its context was startling as well.

"…my first day in Hell…" came from a mumble under his breath, not really meant to be heard. The Saiyan knew that it was anyway, and that did not really matter to him. Piccolo pretended not to hear the comment, for he had no idea as to how to respond to it.

"Today we are going to the grand re-opening of that bakery. We are expected to be there, and I would not want to disappoint the owners…"

_Of course. They are so much more important than anything else. The fact that I tried to kill myself isn't going to change anything. _Came the spiteful thoughts.

"…so it's time to get up and ready. Let's go."

No motion came from the demi-Saiyan. Piccolo, on the other hand, sighed in frustration.

"Well… I realize that you are not too eager to go…"

There was a scoff from Gohan that declared the statement as imprudently obvious, not to mention an understatement.

"...but your mother is expecting you to be going. Now, while she is plenty suspicious about your behaviour, at the moment she is aware of nothing. You can by all means explain to her your reasons, but if I were in your position, I would highly doubt that her awareness of this... situation is one of your ideals."

Gohan lowered his fierce gaze against the wall, for he knew there was truth in Piccolo's words. Bitter, cruel truth. Of course the only things that were not lies were truths that were not welcome. But whether they were welcome or not, the truth still remained the truth. It would be catastrophic if his mother ever found out about everything, and his life was as bad enough as it was. If he wanted to keep things as good as they were, he was going to have to leave and go to the bakery.

_But that does not mean I have to enjoy it._

He was confident that he was not going to, but nevertheless he was glad to be leaving the excruciating isolation. So, half-willingly, he sat himself upright and looked somewhat civilly at Piccolo, though there was still an obvious lack of respect. He waited there, and when the Namekian made no move to do anything, he twirled his ankle in a small circle, causing the blue beam to return momentarily and finally catching Piccolo's attention. The Namekian promptly realized his error, and gave a swift flick of his index finger, which removed the beam from existence. An unpleasant awkwardness filled the room.

"...so am I going to go dressed like this?" Gohan asked finally, gesturing down as his black blood-stained, tear-stained pyjamas, the sarcasm as obvious as the answer. The true question also was fairly clear: was Piccolo going to allow him the luxury of getting dressed on his own, or was he going to be forced to do that under his watchful eye? His hopes were considerably low, and waning with each moment that Piccolo took to think. He was, though, eventually given his answer.

"Yeah... get changed... and be out in five minutes."

He turned on the spot, from his position in the doorway, and closed the door, but his shadow could still be seen, as it remained cast through the cracks on each of the four sides. Gohan turned away too, and looked back to his demolished room. He looked in antipathy at it, and pessimistically wondered if anything was going to even be in wearable condition. Nevertheless, he looked around and eventually came across something in decent condition- a sparring outfit modelled after his father identical to the one he wore three days ago, but clean. Apparently, it was made of durable, flame- and tear-resistant material. Unfortunately for him, this outfit was comprised of a short sleeved top.

_Wonderful. _The sarcasm seemed so innate now.

That was going to make things difficult- but he was aware that it was not impossible. It was very much possible to hide the scars, for the first day when he was so blissfully unaware of their presence, nobody else noticed them either. More than likely, if he did not act suspiciously and did not attract unneeded attention to himself, it could play out in the same manner.

He changed in a few minutes, and obediently left the room without doing anything else. Piccolo was leaning against the wall outside of the door somewhat impatiently, and gave a nod of approval before he walked towards the kitchen, looking back every few steps to make sure that the unhappy demi-Saiyan was following him- which he was, though reluctantly. As Piccolo kept looking towards the young Saiyan, the Namekian kept thinking about how unclean he was- dried blood present nearly everywhere visible, and most definitely everywhere not. He wasn't exactly in a "respectable" condition- and there was no way that he was going to go out in public looking in such a manner.

The kitchen was empty when they entered it.

_Good,_ thought Piccolo,_ That leaves us time to clean up before Chi-chi sees this._

That was easier said than done, though, for he doubted that Gohan would exactly jump at the opportunity to clean himself up. He looked to the half-Saiyan, and saw him gazing outside, watching the rain hit the window and stream down the glass, unnoticed by anyone else. He seemed to be genuinely intrigued by the rain, and Piccolo saw a chance of secretly getting his hope fulfilled.

"Why… why don't you go outside?" He suggested. Gohan, at first, did not move or respond in any way. After watching the rain for a little while longer, though, he gave a quiet, deep inhale and nodded.

Without even looking back, he walked to the already opened door. He stood in the doorway for a moment, and felt the wind against his face. It was bitter, cold and harsh- but that was what was so appealing. He outstretched his hand, and felt the raindrops for what they were- sharp, cold, stinging, and fierce. Stepping out the door, and past the overhang of the roof so that he was completely exposed to the downpour, he raised his head closed-eyed so that the harsh rainfall enveloped his face. There was a soreness that came soon afterwards, eventually even causing his entire face to become numb from the cold. Another deep breath signified that he was finding some relief in the shower. He did not shift from his position, and stood for several minutes in the rain, the water soaking him completely- his arms, hands, and hair all being unsuspectingly rinsed from the crimson hue they were stained.

That was what Piccolo was hoping for. Now that his desire was fulfilled, he had half a mind to pull the demi-Saiyan from the icy downpour, but he did not. His better judgement saw that Gohan was receiving solace from the rain- and interrupting that was only going to cause him more heartache. Instead, he watched thoughtfully at the young Saiyan while he stood there. The lightning had long since ceased, and within a few minutes Gohan began to start to shiver. Nevertheless, he remained right where he was, completely disregarding his body's request for warmth. It was some time before the rain finally began to let up, and when that happened Piccolo finally escorted the frigid being back inside, where he was given a few minutes to warm up before Chi-chi finally arrived, dressed and ready to go.

"Now, are we all set to leave?" She asked, not realizing that she was the one being awaited. With a reply in the form of a nod from Piccolo, the three left the house and took to the dreary skies, Chi-chi carried by Piccolo. Gohan followed, but a fair distance behind them.

_I really hope he is going to be okay… I don't know if he can handle all of this._ The Namekian thought.

"Gohan…" He mouthed, not even enunciating the word.

The demi-Saiyan sneezed quietly. He turned his head slightly as he thought of something, and then was silent for the rest of the way.

* * *

...thoughts? Suggestions? Comments? Random favourite part? You know what to do...

Until next time warriors!!!!


	23. Chapter TwentyThree:Of Memory and Misery

You guys are being awful stingy with reviews recently... ah well, I've gotten so many I shouldn't be greedy. The next chapter should bear an eerie similarity to something previous, but in a contrasting way. Or something worded like that. In any case, enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Three

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The flight to the bakery was extremely unremarkable, silence from everyone and nothing worth noting occurring for the duration- just the same awkward minutes that possessed that notorious quality of seeming to last longer than they actually did. Chi-chi was finding the situation unpleasant because of this awkwardness, and failed to experience any amusement from the flight, despite the feeling of exhilaration that she experienced when she was in the air. Instead, she kept her gaze on her son, his face sorrow-filled and lined with immeasurable tension.

Gohan was well aware of her staring, and was finding it increasingly annoying and hard to ignore. He had to resist the impulse to press his arms tight against his chest to hide them, for he knew that doing so would attract attention to it. He was just going to have to trust that his mother was as unobservant and dim-witted as usual.

That he found easy to hope for.

They arrived at the bakery after a few hours of daylight, the clouds finally letting up and allowing sunlight to fill the landscape. It seemed that they were the last to arrive, for everyone that was present three days ago was already there. The first one to catch sight of the three was Master Roshi, who promptly shouted out to the others to announce their arrival. Afterwards, they all lined up in front of the Namekian carrying a woman, and the demi-Saiyan who promptly folded his arms across his torso inconspicuously. Greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, but they were on the borders of gauche and as a result, were kept noticeably brief. After an invitation from Mr. Flute to get some refreshment, the party was moved to inside of the shop, where complimentary drinks and small pastries were served by Mrs. Flute, who proved to be quite adept at memorization of where each food and drink was located for she never once made a mistake in the order.

Everyone conversed lightly amongst themselves and the several other people who were present- obviously very dedicated customers who found the services of the bakery in worth of recognition- and a few people at a time went to get their share of the delicious treats. After being prompted by his mother, and receiving a reminder in the form of an unpleasant look from Piccolo, Gohan unenthusiastically went up as well.

"Ah, if it isn't young Gohan," Mrs. Flute greeted with a smile across her face, "Now, what is it that you'd like?"

There was a large temptation for him to respond with the truth that he did not want anything and actually was coming here against his will, but had the sense that doing so would not be productive. Instead, he respectfully asked her what she would recommend.

"Why don't you try our almond cookie?" She responded, slowly walking to the left and gesturing to the second shelf of the display, where a ordinary and plain looking cookie comprised of a small swirl of brown dough topped by a single plain almond rested, "I know what you are thinking: they don't look too appealing. We don't sell too many of these, but take my word for it, their looks are deceiving... like other things, I can tell."

Gohan really did not pay attention to the comment, nor did he actually take her opinion to heart, but he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible so he told her that he would try an almond cookie, emphasizing the fact that he only wanted one.

"Ah... you will not be disappointed!" She chirped as she placed a single cookie on a napkin, placed in on top of the counter, and set out a glass next to it before the half-Saiyan could even protest, "What will you have to drink, dearie?"

"Drin…? Oh... well... water is fine..." she filled the glass to the brim, "Thank you."

Gohan took the unwanted duo of refreshment and walked back to the location of his mother and Piccolo. The two attempted to insert him into the conversation for a short while, but he always managed to make his contribution as short as physically possible, so they gave up the attempt within a few minutes. Little by little, he moved away from the grouping and hid himself in the dark, difficult to see corner of the bakery. He managed to remain unnoticed there for several minutes, but the entire time Piccolo kept sending him glances of caution that advised him to return back. A particularly threatening glare cast was enough for the young Saiyan to force himself back in the direction of the party, though he hung comfortably back from the conversation by leaning on the wall nearest to the door, concealed in shadow. This served to his advantage in three ways- firstly, he kept the attention of everyone- including his mother- away from himself, and in turn, he kept the scars secret. In addition to that, he satisfied the desires of both his mother and his mentor- though he did not exceed them. Finally, he was not required to do any sort of exchange with other people if he stayed away from their view- that was really why he was going this.

The only downside in his plan, though, was the boredom that came with his removal from the general public. He found things to do, but they were never very exciting- not to his surprise. Gohan mainly scanned the room attentively, observing the relaxed and pointless chatter, and feeling like he was watching it from the wrong side of an invisible barrier that prevented him from being part of something so worry-free and enjoyable. A quiet, almost unheard thought told him outright that the screen was only placed there by one person-

_Yourself._

But it was far too quiet, and immediately it was hushed and disregarded by the more negative thoughts that obviously comprised the majority, and refused to be opposed.

_Really, _he thought to himself, _Do you want to be part of that- such superficial ways of life?_

Of course he did not want that. He already knew what he wanted- and it was neither the life he had now, nor the lives these sordid people possessed. He wanted it all to just stop- that would make it so much simpler and easier.

Between his scans of the room with the people in it, and the psychological conflict that seemed to have already been won, he also decided to look at the food that he unwillingly received. The cookie looked as plain as ever, and for some reason he found that appropriate. After he simply examined it several times over, he finally decided that it was expected for him to eat it. A tiny nibble on the corner of the dough revealed it to be only slightly firm on the outside, where as the inside was soft and light. The flavour was subtle, but it was the delicacy of the taste that actually made it quite pleasant. The demi-Saiyan was able to accept the fact that it was appetizing, but failed to enjoy that tastiness it possessed. He more found it as punishment for the fact that he had no choice in whether or not he ate it, and his mind was set on the conclusion that nothing that happened to him was to be enjoyable. He ate away at it, bit by bit, and finished the tiny pastry without taking a moment to get pleasure from it.

He drank his water to rid the taste from his mouth- it was tasteless, so no big undertaking on making it unpleasant occurred- and absent-mindedly swirled what was rest of it around in his glass cup as he returned to his harmful thoughts. They only lasted less than ten minutes, though, before he found his meditation rudely interrupted by the shrill, echoing ring of a fork against a glass. Everyone's attention- including his- was brought to the elderly couple, who stood behind their pastry-filled cabinet and ahead of a canvas that covered something on the wall.

"Alright… do we have everyone's attention? Good," started Francis Flute, who sat the glass and fork away from view, "Now, let us get to the main event! First of all, Thisbe and I would like to thank you all for coming, and for your patronage that made this wonderful transformation possible."

"Hear! Hear!" Everyone except a hidden Saiyan called out, raising their glasses in a toast. Francis waved his arms to settle them down.

"We have been in business for over- what is it, forty?" Francis turned to his wife, who responded too softly to be heard, "Fifty, eh? Fifty years, and I've met many good people. Sadly, some of those people are no longer with us to experience this revolutionary moment for our humble bakery, but they will be remembered."

Thisbe raised her glass, "To the departed, but not forgotten!"

"To the departed, but not forgotten!" Almost everyone else repeated a few with slightly sad faces.

"Now, now, let us not forget what we are here for!" Francis interrupted, as it appeared that the cheering was going to continue, "Without further ado…

"I present to you…"

He strode over to the side of the tarp, grasped it as tight as his aged fingers could, and pulled it off as he revealed the shop's new title proudly.

"The Perfect Bakery!"

As soon as the words left his frail mouth, the ear-splitting sound of breaking glass resonated through the room.

* * *

Ehh, a little awkward, but intentionally so. Can't anyone else just imagine Piccolo raising a toast with a "Hear, hear!"? Maybe that's just me...

Anyways, I don't expect many reviews here, but maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised... hint hint.

Two chapters left! And I find them the best, because it has all been leading up to... THIS.

Until next time, Warriors!


	24. Chapter TwentyFour: Resurrection

Chapter Twenty-Four

* * *

Immediately, everyone looked to the source of the noise, and so turned to face the form that stood near the back wall partially veiled by shadow. His right fist was still in the shape of his cup that now lay shattered on the ground, his teal eyes flaring like an inferno as they gazed ahead at nothing or something not visible to everyone else. His mouth opened only slightly, as he released only a single word.

"Wh-what?"

There was no time for a response, for his eyes darted across the room, resting for a moment on supposedly random places as he seemed to be witnessing something- and obviously not something pleasant, as his eyes widened and froze into a state of perpetual horror at the unwilling sight of them. Afterwards, he only seemed to be terrified even further as he slowly began to back away from the only-visible-to-him events, an arm raised in front of himself in a protective stance. None of the ordinary people in the room even had a guess as to what was happening, but the rest of them were far too convinced that they knew what was happening.

Gohan was remembering everything- and he was doing so right now, right here, in public, where he was going to return to reality being harassed by the pestering questions of the "normal" people present to the point of insanity- if he already had not lost his sanity from the abrupt re-telling of his horrifying past. As they watched him, though, they could tell that he was not simply witnessing the events- he was _experiencing_ them again. They were helpless to do anything but look on and hope that something would occur to make this excruciating, anguishing and torturing experience even a little easier.

Almost in answer to their plea, there was suddenly a small break in the experience for Gohan- he was still suffering through the events, but he regained enough physical control as to flee from the bakery at a enormous speed, continuing to run, and run, and run, without stop, the only thing that he was aware of being the fact that he needed to get away from the things that he saw- all the while unaware to the fact that he could not escape.

They followed him everywhere- the sporadic images that made little sense, although he was cruelly given enough as to understand what was happening. Strange, human-looking machines that were designed only to destroy stood before him, first an old one and a doll-like one, and a word came to him- _Android. _Suddenly, the doll-like one was blasted into pieces by a younger, black-haired male android, and the old one was decapitated by the foot of a blonde female counterpart, who was teenaged as well. She leant on the shoulder of the male, smirking as another male android came up, this one significantly larger and red-haired. They all looked quite pleased with their destruction, but then a large tail sprouted forth as if from nowhere, causing all three to become fear-stricken. The syringe-like tip of the tail opened, and closed itself around the smaller male android, slowly covering more and more of him until he disappeared from view completely and travelled up the tail. The red-headed android fired a rocket from his hand at the unknown abductor, but it seemed to do no good as the tail simply flicked him aside, crushing him until only his head remained. It repeated the consuming act, this time on the female.

Gohan's entire head was then suddenly filled with a chilling, serpent-like, and viciously regal laughter. The tail disappeared from view, and a malevolent aura began to encompass everything. A green and purple form stepped forward identical to that of the one in his dream, his mouth open wide in laughter as he approached the disembodied android on the ground. He raised his foot, and continued to cackle as he crushed the head beneath it.

Gohan screamed as he saw this action, but he had no idea why. He was now able to see that he was encircled entirely by forest, trees surrounding him completely, but he saw something else as well. Everywhere he looked, the unsettling face followed him, the very same sadistic smile beaming across his face as he appeared on a branch, in a bush, in the sky, beneath a log, and anywhere else the demi-Saiyan looked in attempt to escape from the view of the evil being.

_It's not true- it's not true-! That was just a dream- only a dream-!_

He refused to believe what he was being shown- it couldn't be true. At the same time, though, the brutal voice echoed in his head, words buzzing around like a swarm of poisonous insects.

_ Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection!_

_ Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect._

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

_Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection! Perfection!_

_ Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

_ Perfection! Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfection!_

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection! Perfect._

_ Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

_ Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection!_

Out of all of them, droning in unending repetition, there was one that boomed through them all like a deafening drum. It was only needed to be said once:

**_Ultimate Perfection._**

As the phrase rang through the young Saiyan's mind, he couldn't help but stop in his tracks as he felt the entire world spinning around him in a nauseating blur of green, brown and blue.

_Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

The dizzying motion caused his legs to wobble, and in only a moment's time he found himself on all fours, staring downwards to the ground.

_Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect._

With much effort, he managed to regain enough of his centre of gravity to raise his head slightly, only to see that he was in the wake of a small pool of unmoving water.

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

While attempting to stand, he raised his head even higher, and in the process exposed himself to the water's reflection.

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

His eyes adjusted to the glare of the sun, his head dropped, and he began to shiver fiercely as he froze in fear of what he saw and- more importantly- what it meant.

_Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection! Perfection!_

A pale and petrified face stared back at him, with unruly, short blond hair defying gravity by floating ahead of his forehead.

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection!_

What struck him the most though- not that the first fact was not shocking- was the eyes.

_Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect._

Glinting, shimmering, and intense to the core, only a Saiyan could posses those eyes, for even in the washed-out reflection the water it was obvious that they were of an unnatural hue.

_Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

He blinked- the eyes did as well.

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

An excessively well-known sensation stung the seams of his eyes, and he watched as the eyes ahead of him became lined with a liquid that soon began streaming down the face of the reflection as he, at the same time, felt the tear skim lightly against his own quaking cheek.

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

He did not need to even think to understand what the images meant: he was a Super Saiyan. That meant that the dream he had was not a dream at all- it was true.

_Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection!_

_It was all true…_

_Perfection! Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfection! Perfection!_

_That means that…_

_Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect._

_Father really is…_

**_Ultimate Perfection._**

"No…" Gohan mouthed the word silently as the final echo of the haunting brutal voice faded in his head. He was given a moment's rest- but only a moment. Then, like a massive torrent, it all came back- every moment, every image, every sensation, every emotion… he remembered it all in a matter of moments. The sheer magnitude of the memories was overwhelming as it was, but the emotion behind them all made it unbearable. All of the sorrow, the anger, the fear, the suffering, the self-hatred- it was all restored to his memory and, in the process, re-experienced by him in such a short time that he couldn't handle it. He felt something inside of him collapse as his throat sent an agonizing, screeching shout reverberating through the entire forest, finding its way even to the ears of the warriors who were waiting anxiously outside of the bakery for the demi-Saiyan to return.

Their heads snapped up in unison as the distressing noise registered in their minds. They immediately took to the skies, and rocketing in the direction of the cry. Only a few moments later, they hovered above the area where, through a gap in the trees, they could see the half-Saiyan shouting at the skies, unable to see them because his eyes were firmly shut. The scream was intolerably long for the warriors to bear- especially Piccolo- but still they had to. As they listened in agony, each of them noticed something odd. Usually, when Gohan got so out-of-control, his power level went off the charts. This time, however, it was doing the opposite: it was shrinking. If that was not enough to worry them, the sudden and abrupt stop of his shout did. His hair shot black as he gave two grunts- the first half articulated, like his air supply was cut off, when his shout was interrupted, and the second full-bodied for it escaped his mouth as his body fell to the forest ground with a horribly loud thump.

His body laid there motionless for a moment, occasionally giving a sporadic twitch that shifted his body enough so that the warriors floating overhead could glimpse his unseeing, unyielding eyes.

"No!" Krillin shouted, and lunged forward only to be stopped yet again by the arm of Piccolo, "What are you doing? We have to help him!"

"Feel and think, you fool!" Piccolo answered sharply, "We can't touch him now!"

Krillin did so, and felt the demi-Saiyan's energy wavering, but getting increasingly smaller and smaller so that it was approaching the level that it should be at for a normal person. The behaviour in which it rose and fell was like that of an animal attempted to be restrained and withheld in an enclosure- the being did not cooperate with the demand, but it eventually was forced into submission. Likewise, eventually Gohan's energy signal fell calm, locked into an intensity where it was hardly even noticeable. With that, his eyes shot awake as he regained consciousness. The tension being felt by the fighters eased slightly, and they pondered what to do next as they watched Gohan instinctively hug his knees against his chest as he rocked himself back and forth again, thinking that the motion would help calm his tears like it did previously. It was not having as much success, for instead of being silenced, his tears soon became accompanied by sniffles, and then sobs, and eventually a complete break down with cries to disheartening extents. The fighters looked at one another, each of them equally unsure of what to do. Upon intuition, they each descended slowly in the sky, one after another, and they separately landed with a quiet tap.

That small noise was enough as to alert Gohan to their presence, and he immediately turned his head to look behind his back, where the warriors stood with identical faces of uncertainty. He placed his right hand on the ground as they all looked at each other in silence, and slowly stood himself up. He then became aware of how weak his legs were as they faltered beneath his weight. When he stood at his full height, he took a step back out of caution, and then another out of discomfort because of all of the eyes that lay on him, boring into him and examining every inch of his body. Whenever he looked at any of them, he found it impossible to hold their gaze.

He glanced behind himself and saw an opening in the bushes. He did not have the energy to fly, and knew that he could not run far, but nevertheless he ran, not caring where. As he ran though, he found his head jerked back as he felt some well-known, comforting sensation torn from him, left behind in that opening of the forest, and replaced by an odious feeling of emptiness. Even though he could see nothing left behind in clearing, the nameless feeling still failed to return to him, and he knew that he left something vital behind. However, the thought of returning to that torturing shower of gazes forced him to painfully detach himself from it's warmth.

The warriors watched heartbroken as the silhouette of the young Saiyan became increasingly smaller in the distance until it disappeared completely from view, completely unaware of the severity of the scene that they had just witnessed.

They looked at one another for a moment, one by one hanging their heads in shame as they thought about how poor of a job they had done supporting Gohan. None more so than Piccolo- he was beginning to wonder if his relationship with the poor demi-Saiyan would ever be as intimate as it once was.

Something unforgivably wise told him that it never would again.

* * *

I apologize if the layout of that middle section (the Perfection one) is a little off for you. This was originally formatted to be printed, so there was align left, centre, and right options, while FanFiction's documents only have left and centre. I centre-aligned the right-aligned one, but you may have to adjust your screen size and zoom until it looks right.

Otherwise... I have no comments. But I hope you guys aren't the same way after _that_ chapter.

Next chapter is the one. You know what I mean.

Until next time, Warriors!


	25. Chapter TwentyFive: Ripples in the Water

Well then... it's been fun folks. The long and winding road has finally come to an end. I hope you will enjoy this final chapter in my story, and if you like what you see, keep an eye out for more from me.

The Final Chapter.

* * *

Piccolo decided it was best to leave Gohan alone for a few hours- and advised everyone else to do the same. It was almost sundown before he decided to finally seek out the young Saiyan again. He eventually found him, along the shoreline of the seemingly endless ocean, looking out to the horizon where the vast sun could be seen setting in a flood of ginger, red, yellow, orange, gold, and crimson rays shimmering across the waters. The coastline was comprised of several asymmetrically placed stone blocks, and Gohan was sitting atop of one that was somewhat level- although it tipped slightly forwards so he was looking downward. He sat with his knees upright and ahead of him, his arms folded on top of them, and his left hand tightly gripping his right wrist. The wind was very aroused, and as a consequence of this, the white crested waves were sent crashing upon the rocky shore, sending a shower of glistening water into the air, but not far enough to reach the silent being on the rocks.

Piccolo approached quietly from the right side so that he could be seen far before he arrived. Gohan, though, did not make any sign that would imply that he even saw the Namekian. Piccolo waited patiently for Gohan to speak first, trying to handle the situation as delicately as possible. It was a few minutes before Gohan decided to speak, but he did not take his quiet eyes of the horizon as he did so.

"I… I wonder if Father ever saw a sunset like this," he said softly. Both of them watched the horizon for a few moments silently, the waves still crashing onto the rocks with a gentle splash, "I hope the last one he saw was as beautiful as this one… if not more."

"I'm sure it was," Piccolo said, thinking that it was the most comforting thing to say. His comment, though, seemed to be more of a barrier as Gohan fell silent once again, and still did not look at his mentor. More waves crashed as the sun slowly but surely descended in the sky. Piccolo tried not to, but eventually he couldn't help but thoroughly examine the young Saiyan staring unwavering to the horizon with ebony eyes, and ebony hair tossed in several different directions by the wind, sometimes even into his face, although he never appeared to notice. Piccolo's eyes scanned his face, trying to read what Gohan was thinking about, but he was unable to discern anything through the somewhat detached and emotionless- but still obviously sad- face.

His analytical eyes eventually fell to the Saiyan's left side, where he saw glimmers of the setting sun reflected back at him by a bronze hilt. Attached to it was a silver blade, noiselessly dripping scarlet blood onto the grey rock that it was resting on. Piccolo's eyes were then drawn to Gohan's right wrist, where he could now see the same crimson blood escaping his tight grip and trickling down his arm. Gohan gave a half-hearted smile as he saw Piccolo's revelation, and blinked several times as he felt his steadfastness slipping.

"I… I really don't know how I am going to go on, Piccolo," he confessed, his voice cracking again, "I miss him so much. It-it's feels like… like… like I am all alone in the world, even though I know I'm not. It's-it's like there's this big, empty void in my life that… becomes part of me whenever I think about him. It makes me feel lost, l-like I was abandoned by everyone in the world, and am forced to live in solitary, the only one affected by his death. A-am I the only one who is like this- still not able to accept the fact that he's gone? Y-you all seem so happy, an-and unaffected, like you've already gotten over it. I-it makes me think that he didn't matter that much to anyone- that everyone will forget him in time. Th-that's my worst fear- that everyone will forget about him, a-and everything he sacrificed for the sake of the Earth and its people."

Gohan looked down at his bleeding arm, the smile completely vanished from his face.

"...i-it makes me wonder whether or not anyone would remember me when I'm gone- or even care. If everyone forgets him, who was most likely the most kind-hearted, selfless person who ever existed, th-then who would ever bother to remember me?"

Gohan pried a small pebble on the rock he was sitting on with his right hand, no longer caring about keeping his bleeding wound hidden. The pebble was no bigger than a few millimetres wide, and he merely looked at it for a moment before he lightly tossed it into the ocean, where it was quickly swallowed by the violent waves before it could even make a ripple in the water. The metaphor was obvious without any explanation needed from Gohan.

"I… I know that Father wants me to be strong, but… but… but…"

A spontaneous, fierce gust of wind tore past them for a few moments, giving the waves enough momentum so that when they collided with the rocks the spray that came as a result sprinkled all over the Saiyan, droplets of water remaining on his face so it was uncertain anymore if the moisture on his face was water from the spray or tears.

"…oh Piccolo, I can't believe he's gone! H-he's really gone… and never coming back!" Several disjointed sobs came upon his folded knees, "Piccolo… it hurts so much… just... make it stop…"

Piccolo finally decided to sit down beside the young Saiyan, who did not immediately welcome the company, and remained isolated from Piccolo as his body began to tremble from his weeping, his head once again bowed as his left hand gripped ever tighter on his wrist. Piccolo was apprehensive about it, but finally took the initiative to put one arm around Gohan's shoulders. Any lingering barriers between the two were shattered with this simple action, for Gohan immediately received the support without question. In fact, he buried his face into the Namekian's shoulder and remained there, shaking terribly. Piccolo sympathetically rubbed the demi-Saiyan's shoulders, and knew that he had to say something to help the child's worries. He hesitated though- he never did like giving speeches, and this one was going to have to be expertly presented.

"Gohan…your father was very important to all of us- of course we miss him, even if we don't show it. You aren't the only one taking this hard… I know that Vegeta has lost all the drive to train now that Goku is d-…gone," Piccolo, at the last minute, decided to use a less harsh word, "But you were probably the closest person to him, so it is only natural that you are going to find it hard to accept… but don't think of it as a punishment- to your father or yourself. If I know Goku, he's probably having the time of his life wherever he is- he wouldn't let a simple thing like death get in his way of having a good time. I'm positive that he would want the same for you- he wants you to be as happy as possible, even when he isn't around."

Gohan snivelled, and nodded but obviously wasn't comforted. Piccolo paused, and withheld a flustered sigh he wanted to let loose.

_What else can I say? _

"As for people forgetting your father's existence…" Piccolo hesitated, knowing that the truth was going to hurt. He could not lie to the demi-Saiyan anymore, though, and so continued, "It is very likely that many people will forget him. It is really meant to be like that- everyone should not focus on the past. Eventually people will forget the Cell games- and that "Champion" of theirs too. They will be too busy enjoying the lives that they will be able to live thanks to your father- and you. That is really what is important- the world being at peace. Your father never wanted fame or fortune- he was far too kind for that. He was satisfied simply with knowing that the Earth was safe- and you should be too. I know that _I_ will not be forgetting Goku any time soon, and I am positive the same is going to go for everyone else. He was a legend- I know that there are going to be several generations of martial artists growing up to the tales of his accomplishments. Really, it will be up to them to decide whether his stories are the truth- but no matter what, he will have taught them what truly is important in life- protecting the innocent, striving to surpass your goals, never giving up, always seeing the good in people, and making sure to care for those who are important to you."

Gohan had managed to regain his composure, and was sitting on his own, head resting on his arms that were folded across his knees. He obviously wanted to be alone. Piccolo began wondering if Gohan was even listening to what he was saying. The Namekian stood up, and received no objection. He looked down at the young Saiyan, and decided that one last remark was necessary.

"Just remember one thing Gohan… he died for your sake too. Not just the world, not just us, but you as well. He gave you that so that you could have the benefit of living in the peaceful world that we now have. That really is his one wish for you, and…"

Piccolo stopped. He realized that he was becoming far too sentimental, and bitterly accepted that he was wasting his time in trying to persuade Gohan.

"…well… I… guess it is your decision. In the end, really it is you who makes the final judgment. I just hope that you are ready to follow through with whatever it is that you choose."

He turned his back and flew off, the half-Saiyan not even turning to watch him go. That worked to Piccolo's advantage, though, for Gohan did not see the fact that Piccolo actually landed a short distance away, just out of earshot. He waited to see what his young pupil would do next from an non-interfering distance, and felt his heart in his mouth as he watched. He was beginning to regret his decision of allowing Gohan to choose his own fate- but that was not his choice to make. He watched the demi-Saiyan stare out on the water for several minutes, obviously considering the options placed before him, and the consequences and benefits of each. Piccolo saw the reflection and deep thought, and unconditionally hoped that he would make the right choice. His hopes were abolished, though, when he saw Gohan bow his head almost in dishonour as he reached for the dagger a final time. The Namekian's mind screamed, but he swallowed his emotion as he knew that whatever Gohan chose was what he thought to be best. Piccolo made himself believe that no matter what, Gohan would make the right decision.

That was, without a doubt, the most difficult thing he ever did in his life.

He looked on with failing determination as he watched Gohan slowly spin the blade in his hands one last time, as he did so many times before. He gripped it tightly, and placed it against his chest as he closed his eyes firmly. What he was about to do was obviously very difficult for him. Piccolo felt his courage collapse as he turned away from the sight as he refused to watch what happened next.

_No! Watch it! Honour his choice!_ He heard a second part of himself mercilessly demand. He knew that was what he had to do- but he was still very shocked at the amount of influence his normally hidden emotional side had over him.

He very reluctantly turned his head back as he saw Gohan's fierce eyes tear open resolutely as he lined up the blade. Every inch of the Namekian's body howled in protest of the cruel request to bear witness to this, and he was about to lose his composure completely when he froze as Gohan's arm suddenly flung the blade forwards. He watched in awe as the blade tumbled in the air as if in slow motion, before it plunged into the ocean far off the coast, sinking down, down, down, into the waters, the scarlet blood being cleansed off of it in the process.

* * *

...

I guess we're done then. I don't want to be cliché, but before I go I want to extend a personal thanks to everyone who reviewed. There are too many to list them all, but you know who you are. I've said it once, and I'll say it again- you guys are AWESOME!

Now, before you ask, I have already started a sequel named "The Fanning of the Flames". If you are interested, feel free to check it out. Otherwise, you are more than welcome to treat this as the ending and continue on without a continuation.

Read, Review if you'd like, but above all, enjoy!

And now, let me sign off one final time with that oh-so-familiar farewell... _Until next time, warriors_!


End file.
